^                        PRINCETON,  N.  J. 

BV    4  2  5.^     .:   r,  ,     1885     v.  4 
Cox,    Samuel,     1826-1893. 
Exposi t  ions 

.. 

Shelf 

EXPOSITOR  V  D/S CO  UR SES. 


BV    THE  SAME   AUTHOR. 

THE    BIRD'S    NEST, 

And  other  Sermons  for  Children  of  all  Ages. 
Second  Edition.     Cloth  6.s. 


"  All  educated  young  people  may  get  from  them  new  ideas 
and  healthy  counsel." — Guardian. 

"  The  sermons  are  simple,  earnest,  and  practical,  and  have  the 
directness  of  utterance  which  children  are  sure  to  appreciate."— 
Saturday  Revieiv. 

"  Beautiful  discourses.  .  .  .  Not  a  single  one  of  them  should 
be  beyond  the  comprehension  of  a  fairly-taught  boy  of  twelve." 
— St.  James's  Gazette. 

"  Luminous  expositions  of  Scripture,  full  of  solid  instruction, 
conveyed  in  simple  and  graceful  language."— ^rt///j/  Magazine. 

"  Marked  by  great  simplicity,  freshness,  and  beauty."— 
Congregationalist. 

"  Riches  in  little  room.'' — Nonconformist. 

"  Bright,  cheerful,  and  instructive,  full  of  fresh  thought, 
brimming  over  with  genuine  sympathy.''— y^>rfwa«. 

"  Admirable  models  to  those  who  undertake  the  noble  task  of 
preaching  to  the  yc\xx\%." —Christian  World. 

"  By  far  the  best  volume  of  children's  sermons  we  have  ever 
seen." — Sunday  Talk. 

London  : 
T.  FISHER  UNWIN,  26,  Paternoster  Square,  E.G. 


EXPOSITIONS 


REV.   SAMUEL "^OX,    D.D.   (st.  andrews) 


AUTHOR  OF 


VOLUME   IV 


gottbon 
T  .     FISHER     U  N  W  I  N 

26   PATERNOSTER   SQUARE 

MDCCCLXXXVIU 


TO    THE   MEMORY 
OF 

THOMAS    TOKE    LYNCH, 

TEACHER,  POET,  FRIEND: 

TO    WHOM    I    OWE    MUCH, 

AND    NOT    I    ALONE, 

BUT  THE  WHOLE   CHURCH   OF  GOD. 


PREFACE 


Tins,  I  think,  must  be  the  biographical  volume  of  the 
Series.  So  many  of  my  critics  have  expressed  a  pre- 
ference for  those  discourses  which  deal  with  character, 
and  especially  with  the  obscure  characters  of  Holy 
Writ,  that,  in  deference  to  their  judgment,  I  have  in- 
cluded in  the  present  Volume  an  unusual  number  of 
that  kind.  And  so  many  clergymen  have  written  to 
tell  me  that  they  use  my  sermons  in  their  pulpits,  and 
find  that  those  which  are  complete  in  themselves  best 
serve  their  turn,  that  I  have  excluded  a  long  series 
which  I  had  prepared,  and  have  replaced  it  with  dis- 
courses more  suitable  for  their  purpose.  For  there  is 
no  man,  I  suppose,  who  holds  the  truths  we  all  teach 
with  strong  conviction,  but  would  gladly  preach  them 
from  a  thousand  pulpits,  if  he  could.  And  as  I  myself 
must  cease  to  preach  shortly  after  this  Volume  appears, 
I  am  naturally  the  more  willing  to  speak  by  other  lips 
than  my  own. 

This  must  also,  I  am  afraid,  be  the  last  volume  of  the 


PREFACE. 


Series.  I  never  intended  it  to  run  to  more  than  six  or 
seven  volumes  ;  but  I  frankly  confessed  in  the  preface 
to  Volume  I.  that  I  could  not  "  afford  to  publish  books 
which  do  not  sell,"  and  as  my  publisher  informs  me  that 
he  is  still  "out  of  pocket"  by  the  adventure,  I  must 
perforce  discontinue  the  Series  a  little  earlier  than  I 
had  intended. 

One  of  my  kindest  and  most  sympathetic  reviewers 
commences  his  notice  of  Volume  III.  with  the  sentence  : 
"  To  large  numbers  of  the  most  intelligent  students  of 
Scripture  it  would  be  a  sore  disappointment  if  they  did 
not  receive  at  least  one  volume  every  year  from  the  pen 
of  this  distinguished  expositor."  But  I  fear  that  the 
number  of  such  students  cannot  be  very  large,  or  that 
they  do  not  care  for  or  cannot  purchase  one  volume 
from  my  pen  every  year.  And,  perhaps,  as  those  who 
do  buy  them,  and  are  likely  therefore  to  read  this  Pre- 
face, must  have  a  friendly  appreciation  of  my  work,  I 
may  be  permitted  to  take  a  more  personal  tone  than 
would  otherwise  be  becoming,  and  to  add  that  I  by  no 
means  intend  to  cease  from  that  work.  The  impaired 
condition  of  my  health  compels  me  to  give  up  preaching, 
but  it  in  no  way  affects  my  power  of  writing.  And  since 
as  long  as  I  live,  and  retain  my  power,  I  must  in  some 
way  serve  the  Master  whose  service  has  been  a  joy  and 
an  exceeding  great  reward  to  me  for  more  than  forty 
years,  I  hope  that  I  may  still  be  permitted  to  serve  Him 


PREFACE. 


with  my  pen,  and  that  He  will  make  the  way,  now  a 

little  obscure,  plain  before  me. 

If  I  may  maintain  this  personal  tone  a  moment  longer, 
I  should  like,  since  life  and  opportunities  are  so  uncer- 
tain, to  say  a  word  or  two  of  grateful  recognition  to  my 
unknown  reviewers.  No  author,  surely,  was  ever  more 
generously  handled.  Certainly  I  can  remember  no 
Nonconformist  author  who  has  received  such  kindly 
and  generous  appreciation  from  the  organs  of  the 
Established  Church,  or  from  writers  in  many  leading 
papers  and  magazines  which  do  not  ordinarily  notice 
Biblical  and  theological  books.  And  as  I  have  lived  a 
quiet  and  retired  life,  far  from  London,  am  a  member  of 
no  literary  club  or  clique,  and  have  never  had  it  in  my 
power  to  make  any  return  for  the  service  they  have 
done  me,  I  take  their  appreciation  of  my  work,  which 
has  often  outrun  its  deserts,  as  a  disproof  of  the  selfish 
and  sordid  motives  often  attributed  to  critics  and  re- 
viewers. Lest  I  should  not  have  another  chance,  and 
because  I  can  no  longer  be  suspected  of  the  gratitude 
which  consists  mainly  of  a  keen  sense  of  favours  to 
come,  I  take  this  opportunity  of  assuring  them  that 
their  kindly  appreciation  and  allowance  have  not  fallen 
on  an  ungrateful  soil.  Their  sympathy  and  goodwill 
have  been  a  constant  encouragement  and  support. 


February,  1888. 


CONTENTS. 


I. 

SIMEON. 

I,    THE    SONG. 

PAGE 

Luke  ii.  29-32.  —  "Now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart,  O 
Lord,  according  to  thy  word,  in  peace  ;  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  thy  salvation,  which  thou  hast  prepared  before 
the  face  of  all  peoples  ;  a  light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles, 
and  the  glory  of  thy  people  Israel" i 

II. 

SIMEON. 

II.   THE    PREDICTION. 

Luke  ii.  34,  35. — "  Behold,  this  child  is  set  for  the  falling  and 
the  rising  up  of  many  in  Israel  ;  and  for  a  sign  to  be 
spoken  against  :  yea,  and  a  sword  shall  pierce  through 
thine  own  soul ;  that  thoughts  out  of  many  hearts  may  be 
revealed "  .........     16 

III. 
THE  REDEMITION  OF  THE  REDEEMER. 
Luke  ii.  22-24. — "And  when  the  days  of  their  purification 
according  to  the  law  of  Moses  were  fulfilled,  they  brought 
him  up  to  Jerusalem,  to  present  him  to  the  Lord  (as  it  is 
written  in  the  law  of  the  Lord,  Every  male  that  openeth 
the  womb  shall  be  called  holy  to  the  Lord),  and  to  offer  a 
sacrifice  according  to  that  which  is  said  in  the  law  of  the 
Lord,  A  pair  of  turtledoves,  or  two  young  pigeons"  .        .     30 


CONTENTS. 


GOD  IS  LOVE. 

PAGE 

Isaiah  liv.  6-13. — "The  Lord  hath  recalled  thee  as  a  woman 
forsaken  and  grieved  in  spirit,  and  as  a  wife  of  youth  who 
hath  been  despised,  saith  thy  God.  For  a  small  moment 
did  I  cast  thee  out,  but  with  great  compassion  will  I 
gather  thee.  In  a  sudden  flush  of  wrath  I  hid  my  face 
from  thee,  but  with  everlasting  kindness  will  I  have  com- 
passion on  thee,  saith  the  Lord  thy  Redeemer.  For  it  is 
now  with  me  as  at  the  flood  of  Noah  ;  whereas  I  swore 
that  the  flood  of  Noah  should  no  more  sweep  over  the 
earth,  so  I  swear  that  I  will  not  be  wroth  with  thee,  nor 
rebuke  thee.  For  though  the  mountains  should  remove, 
and  the  hills  should  quake,  my  loving-kindness  for  thee 
shall  not  remove,  neither  shall  my  covenant  of  peace 
quake,  saith  the  Lord  that  hath  compassion  on  thee.  O 
thou  afflicted,  tossed  with  tempest,  not  comforted,  behold 
I  will  set  thy  stones  in  antimony,  and  lay  thy  foundation 
with  sapphires  ;  and  I  will  make  thy  battlements  of  rubies, 
and  thy  gates  of  carbuncles,  and  all  thy  boundaries  of 
precious  stones.  And  all  thy  children  shall  be  taught  of 
the  Lord,  and  great  shall  be  the  peace  of  thy  children"    .     44 


V. 

PRAYER  AND  PROMISE. 

Matthe7V  vii.  8. — "  For  everyone  that  asketh  receiveth  ;  and 
he  that  seeketh  findeth  ;  and  to  him  that  knocketh  it 
shall  be  opened " 60 

VI. 

WISDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  aOTTEN  ? 

James  i.  5. — "  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God, 
who  giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not,  and 
it  shall  be  given  him  " 71 


CONTENTS. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMAXDMKXTS. 

PAGS 

Matthew  xxii.  35-40.— "Then  one  of  them,  a  lawyer,  put  a 
question  to  test  him  :  Master,  what  is  the  best  com- 
mandment in  the  law  ?  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  in  the  whole  of  thy  heart,  and  in 
the  whole  of  thy  soul,  and  in  the  whole  of  thy  mind. 
This  is  the  best  and  first  commandment.  Rut  there  is  a 
second  like  it ;  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself. 
In  these  two  commandments  the  whole  law  hangs,  and 
the  prophets " 88 


VIII. 

THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 

Revelation  xiv.  6,  7. — "And  I  saw  another  angel  flying  in  mid- 
heaven,  having  an  eternal  gospel  to  proclaim  to  them  that 
dwell  on  the  earth,  and  unto  every  nation  and  tribe  and 
tongue  and  people  ;  and  he  saith  with  a  great  voice,  Fear 
God,  and  give  him  glory  ;  for  the  hour  of  his  judgment  is 
come :  and  worship  him  that  made  the  heaven  and  the 
earth,  and  sea  and  fountains  of  waters  "     .        .        .        .  105 


IX. 

THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

I.    BE  CLEAN  ! 

Mark  i.  40-42. — "  And  there  cometh  to  him  a  leper,  beseeching 
him,  and  kneeling  down  to  him,  and  saying  unto  him,  If 
thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me  clean.  And  being  moved 
with  compassion,  he  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  touched 
him,  and  saith  unto  him,  I  will,  be  thou  made  clean. 
And  straightway  the  leprosy  departed  from  him,  and  he 
was  made  clean  " 119 


CONTENTS. 


X. 

THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 
II.   BE    SILENT. 

PAGE 

Mark  i.  43-45. — "  And  he  strictly  charged  him,  and  straightway 
sent  him  out,  and  saith  unto  him,  See  thou  say  nothing  to 
any  man  :  but  go  thy  way,  shew  thyself  to  the  priest, 
and  offer  for  thy  cleansing  the  things  which  Moses  com- 
manded for  a  testimony  unto  them.  But  he  went  out,  and 
began  to  publish  it  much,  and  to  blaze  abroad  the  matter, 
insomuch  that  Jesus  could  no  more  openly  enter  into  a 
city,  but  was  without  in  desert  places  "      .         .        .        .133 

XI. 

THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE. 

Proverbs  xxv.  11. — "  A  word  fitly  spoken  is  like  apples  of  gold 
in  baskets  of  silver" 149 

XII. 

THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 
1 1.   THE   FUNCTION   OF   EVIL. 

John  ix.  1-3. — "And  as  he  passed  by  he  saw  a  man  blind 
from  his  birth.  And  his  disciples  asked  him,  saying, 
Rabbi,  who  did  sin,  this  man,  or  his  parents,  that  he 
should  be  born  blind  1  Jesus  answered,  Neither  did  this 
man  sin,  nor  his  parents  ;  but  that  the  works  of  God 
should  be  made  manifest  in  him  " 163 

XIII. 

THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

II.   THE   LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD. 

John  ix.  4,  5. — "  I  must  work  the  works  of  him  that  sent  me 
while  it  is  day  ;  the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work. 
As  long  as  I  am  in  the  world,  I  am  the  light  of  the  world  179 


CONTENTS. 


XIV. 

THE   MAN   WHO   WAS   BORN   BLIND. 
III.   THE  CURE  OF  THE   BLIND   MAN. 

PACK 

Johtt  ix.  6,  7. — "When  he  had  thus  spoken,  he  spat  on  the 
ground,  and  made  clay  of  the  spittle,  and  anointed  the 
eyes  of  the  blind  man  with  the  clay,  and  said  unto  him. 
Go,  wash  in  the  pool  of  Siloam  (which  is  by  interpretation, 
Sent).  He  went  his  way,  therefore,  and  washed,  and  came 
seeing" 194 

XV. 

THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE  A  WARRANT  OF 
IMMORTALITY. 

Matthew  XK.  15. — "  Is  it  not  lawful  for  me  to  do  what  I  will 

with  mine  own  ;  or  is  thine  eye  evil  because  I  am  good?"  208 

XVI. 

JESUS  THE  JUST. 
Colossians '\w .  \\ . — "And  Jesus  who  is  called  Justus  "       .         .223 

XVII. 

DEMETRIUS. 

iii.  John  12. — "  Demetrius  hath  the  witness  of  all  men,  and  of 
the  truth  itself  ;  yea,  and  we  also  bear  witness  "        .         .  239 

XVIII. 

DIOTREPHES. 

iii.  John  9,  10. — "  I  wrote  somewhat  unto  the  church  :  but 
Diotrephes,  who  loveth  to  have  the  pre-eminence  among 
them,  receiveth  us  not.  Therefore,  if  I  come,  I  will  bring 
to  remembrance  his  deeds  which  he  doeth,  prating  against 
us  with  wicked  words  ;  and  not  content  therewith,  neither 
doth  he  himself  receive  the  brethren,  and  them  that  would 
he  forbiddeth  and  casteth  out  of  the  church  "    .        .        .  255 


CONTENTS. 


XIX. 
GAIUS. 

FACE 

m.  John  3. — '*  I  rejoiced  greatly  when  brethren  came  and  bare 

witness  unto  thy  truth,  even  as  thou  walkest  in  truth  "      .  268 

XX. 

LOT'S  WIFE. 
Luke  xvii.  32. — "  Remember  Lot's  wife  "  .        .        ,        .  280 

XXI. 
THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL. 
Luke  xvii.  33. — "  Whosoever  shall  seek  to  gain  his  life  shall 
lose  it;  but  whosoever  shall  lose  shall  preserve  it"  .        .  294 

XXII. 

DIVINE  GUESTS. 

John  xiv.  23. — "Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him  :  If  a  man 

love  me,  he  will  keep  my  word  ;  and  my  Father  will  love 

him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him,  and  make  our  abode 

with  him  " 308 

XXIII. 
THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 
Luke  xxii.  7-13. — "And  the  day  of  unleavened  bread  came,  on 
which  the  passover  must  be  sacrificed.    And  he  sent  Peter    • 
and  John,  saying,  Go  and  make  ready  for  us  the  passover, 
that  we  may  eat.     And  they  said  unto  him,  Where  wilt 
thou  that  we  make  ready  ?  And  he  said  unto  them,  Behold, 
when  ye  are  entered  into  the  city,  there  shall  meet  you  a 
man  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water ;  follow  him  into  the  house 
whereinto  he  goeth.    And  ye  shall  say  unto  the  goodman 
of  the  house,  The  Master  saith  unto  thee,  Where  is  the 
guest-chamber,  where  I  shall  eat  the  passover  with  my 
djsciples .''     And  he  will  shew  you  a  large  upper  room 
furnished  :  there  make  ready.   And  they  went,  and  found  as 
he  had  said  unto  them ;  and  they  made  ready  the  passover"  321 


CONTENTS. 


XXIV. 

THE    COMING    DAWN. 

A   CHRISTMAS    HOMILY. 

Isaiah  xxi.  ii,  12.— "  Watchman,  what  of  the  night?  Watch- 
man, what  of  the  night  ?  The  watchman  saith,  The 
morning  cometh,  and  also  the  night." 

Romans  \\\\.  12.— "  The  night  is  far  spent,  and  the  day  is  at 

hand" 33^ 

XXV. 

THE  BENEDICTION. 

A   HOMILY   FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR. 

2  Thcssalonians  iii.  18.— "The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 

be  with  you  ail" .  348 

XXVI. 

THE  SELF-SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST. 

A   SACRAMENTAL   HOMILY. 

Matthew  xxvi.  53.—"  Thinkest  thou  that  I  cannot  ask  my 
Father,  and  he  shall  instantly  send  me  more  than  twelve 
legions  of  angels  ?  " 362 

XXVII. 

CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD. 

I  Thessalonians  v.  21. — "  Prove  all  things ;  hold  fast  that  which 
is  good" 375 

XXVIII. 

ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL. 

I  Thcssalonians  v.  22. — "Abstain  from  every  form  of  evil  "      .  3S9 


CONTENTS. 


XXIX. 

MOTIVES. 

PAGE 

Luke  XV.  17,  18  ;  29,  30. — "  How  many  hired  servants  of  my 
father's  have  bread  enough  and  to  spare,  and  I  perish 
with  hunger.     I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father." 

"  Lo,  these  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  never  trans- 
gressing any  of  thy  commandments  ;  yet  thou  never  gavest 
me  a  kid  that  I  might  make  merry  with  my  friends  ;  but 
when  this  thy  son  came,  who  hath  devoured  thy  living 
with  harlots,  thou  killedst  for  him  the  fatted  calf"    .        .  400 


XXX. 
A  PARABLE 413 


ERRATUM. 
Substitute  "Diotrephes"  for  "  Diotrophes "  in  Sermons  xvii. 
xviii.,  and  xix.,  throughout. 


I. 

SIMEON. 

L— THE    SONG. 

"  Now  Icttest  thou  tliy  servant  depart,  O  Lord,  according  to  thy 
word,  in  peace  ;  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation,  which  thou 
hast  prepared  before  the  face  of  all  peoples  ;  a  light  to  lighten 
the  Gentiles,  and  the  giorj^  of  thy  people  Israel." — Luke  ii.  29-32. 

The  song  of  Simeon,  the  Nunc  Diinittis,  has,  in  some 
form,  been  adopted  into  the  worship  of  the  Christian 
Church,  througli  all  its  branches,  for  many  centuries. 
lUit,  familiar  as  we  are  with  his  tiny  psalm,  very  few  of 
us,  I  apprehend,  have  made  any  thoughtful  and  sus- 
tained attempt  to  conceive  what  the  man  himself  was 
like,  and  what  were  the  principles  and  convictions  by 
which  his  life  was  shaped  and  fed.  When  we  think  of 
him,  we  form  no  clear  well-defined  image  ;  he  lias  no 
distinguishing  qualities  and  features  by  which  wc  may 
identify  him  and  separate  him  from  his  neighbours.  A 
man  of  no  mark  or  likelihood  to  his  cotemporarics, 
save  that  he  wore  "  the  white  flower  of  a  blameless  life," 
2 


SIMEON. 


he  is  little  more  to  us  than  he  was  to  them.  A  venerable 
good  old  man,  who  once  in  his  life  was  so  transported 
out  of  and  above  himself  as  to  sing  a  song  which  the 
world  will  never  let  die, — this,  I  suppose,  is  the  best, 
the  most  definite,  conception  of  him  which  most  of  us 
have  formed. 

Yet  the  man  is  worth  knowing  for  his  own  sake,  and 
not  simply  because  he  was  brought  into  momentary  con- 
tact with  the  Holy  Child,  and  may,  I  think,  be  known, 
though  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  epithets  by  which 
St.  Luke  describes  him  do  not  help  us  much.  Indeed, 
by  the  very  way  in  which  he  introduces  him,  the  Evan- 
gelist seems  to  warn  us  that  it  may  be  difficult  for  us  to 
identify  and  distinguish  him.  For  he  tacitly  admits  that 
-Simeon  was  not  a  distinguished  *man.  He  was  only 
a  certain  Simeon,  a  man  in  Jerusalem  whose  name 
happened  to  be  Simeon,  or  Simon,  one  of  the  com- 
monest names  in  Israel.  And  though  a  wild  attempt  has 
been  made  to  identify  this  Simeon  with  Rabbi  Simeon, 
the  son  of  Hillcl  and  the  father  of  Gamaliel,  it  has 
naturally  failed  ;  for,  although  we  know  very  little  of 
either  of  these  two  men,  we  know  just  enough  of  their 
differences  of  age  and  religious  position  to  be  sure  that 
the  old  man  who  took  the  child  Jesus  in  his  arms  could 
not  possibly  have  been  the  great  rabbi  of  his  day. 

St.  Luke  docs,  indeed,  tell  us  that  his  Simeon  was 
"  just   and    devout ; "   and    we    know    that   (to   use    the 


THE  SONG. 


words  of  Joscphus,  when  spc.ikiiig  of  a  much  more 
(Ji.stini,^uished  Simeon)  "  he  was  called  yV/j-/  both  for  his 
piety  toward  God  and  his  charity  toward  his  fellows  ; " 
and  that  he  was  called  devout  to  denote  that  he  feared 
God,  that  his  piety  bore  the  stamp  of  humility  in 
opposition  to  the  self-complacent  self-righteousness  of 
the  Pharisees. 

Simeon,  therefore,  fulfilled  the  ideal  of  Hosea,  which 
Professor  Huxley  pronounces  "  the  perfect  ideal "  of 
religion :  he  did  justly,  he  loved  mercy,  he  walked 
humbly  with  his  God.  And  to  know  so  much  of  any 
man  is,  doubtless,  to  know  a  great  deal  of  him,  and 
even  to  know  what  is  best  worth  knowing.  But  it  does 
not  mark  him  off  from  his  fellows  ;  it  does  not  define 
and  individualize  him  :  for,  happily,  even  in  those  formal 
and  degenerate  days,  there  were  many  men  who  were 
both  just  and  devout.  Joseph,  Mary's  husband,  was  "a 
just  man  ;"  Cornelius  was  a  "devout  man  and  one  that 
feared  God,"  and  even  had  "a  devout  soldier"  to  wait 
upon  him.  And  what  we  want  is  some  individualizing 
touch  by  which  we  may  distinguish  Simeon  from  Joseph 
or  Cornelius,  or  any  other  good  man  of  his  time. 

We  seem  to  be  nearing  our  mark  when  we  read  that 
he  was  "waiting  for  the  Consolation  of  Israel;"  for 
these  words  imply  not  only  that  Simeon  cherished  that 
common  hope  of  all  good  Israelites,  the  coming  of 
the    long-promised   Messiah,  but  that  he  conceived   of 


SIMEON. 


Messiah's  advent  on  its  more  spiritual  side — as  a  Con- 
solatioji  for  all  the  sorrow  and  shame  inflicted  on  them 
for  their  sins,  and  as  a  redemption  from  their  bondage 
to  sin.  Yet  there  were  many  pious  men  in  Israel  who 
yearned  for  Messiah's  advent  because  they  conceived  of 
Him,  not  as  a  great  King  who  would  give  them  the 
victory  over  their  foes,  but,  rather,  as  the  strong  and 
tender  Paraclete  who  would  comfort  them  for  all  their 
sorrows  and  save  them  from  all  their  distresses — above 
all,  from  the  sorrow  and  distress  which  sprang  from  an 
imperfect  obedience,  an  imperfect  conformity  to  the  will 
of  God.  "  May  I  see  the  Consolation  of  Israel  "  was,  in 
fact,  a  common  formula  of  aspiration  among  the  religious 
Jews. 

Even  the  fact  that  Simeon  was  a  prophet,  that  he  had 
received  a  Divine  premonition  of  the  Advent,  and  was 
moved  by  a  Divine  impulse  to  come  into  the  Temple 
at  the  very  moment  when  the  Holy  Child  was  presented 
before  the  Lord — the  very  moment  when  the  pure  Son 
of  God  was  being  purified,  the  Redeemer  of  men  re- 
deemed (Luke  ii.  22-24),  and  the  great  High  Priest 
ransomed  from  the  service  of  the  Hebrew  Priesthood  ^ 
— even  this  notable  fact  does  not  differentiate  him  from 
many  of  his  fellows,  though  it  does  from  mpst  of  them  ; 
for  there  were  many  prophets  in  the  Hebrew,  and  many 
more  in  the  Christian,  Church. 

'  See  Discourse' on  The  Redemption  of  the  Redeemer,  page  30. 


THE  SONG.  5 


Christian  Icy^cnd,  however,  supph'cs  a  somewhat  indi- 
vidiuUizing,  and  not  improbable,'  touch  ;  for  it  affirms 
that  Simeon  had  stumbled  at  the  words  of  Isaiah  (vii. 
I4\  "  Behold  a  virgin  shall  conceive  ;"  and  that  it  was 
while  he  was  harassed  by  the  doubts  which  this  pre- 
diction bred  in  his  mind  he  received  the  promise  that 
he  should  not  die  till  he  had  seen  it  fulfilled  :  for  there 
is  always  something  characteristic  in  a  man's  doubts, 
provided  of  course  that  they  are  his  oicn,  and  if  they  be 
honest  and  sincere. 

But  if  a  man's  doubts  are  characteristic,  how  much 
more  individualizing  are  his  beliefs,  the  truths  on  which 
he  really  rests  and  by  which  he  really  lives  ?  "  As  a 
man  thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he."  It  is  his  concep- 
tions of  truth,  the  principles  and  convictions  by  which 
he  is  animated,  that  differentiate  him  from  his  fellows, 
and  set  him  before  us  in  his  habits  as  he  lived.  If  we 
can  only  reach  his  ruling  conceptions  and  beliefs,  we 
learn  far  more  about  him  than  from  any  descriptive 
epithets  applied  to  him. 

Where,  then,  should  we  look  to  find  the  man  Simeon 

'  Not  improbable  ;  for  from  his  own  words  it  is  obvious  that  the 
ijreat  Iiiniuimu'l  prophecy  of  Isaiah  was  much  in  his  mind.  At 
least  three  of  his  thoughts  or  phrases — a  veiy  large  proportion — 
are  taken  from  this  prophecy.  That  of  the  Light  to  lighten  the 
Cientilcs  from  Isaiah  ix.  2  ;  that  of  the  Stone,  or  Rock,  set  for  the 
fall  and  rising  of  many,  from  Isaiah  viii.  14,  15  :  and  that  of  the 
Signal  for  Contradiction  from  Isaiah  vii.  14,  the  very  Verse  in 
which  the  prediction  that  a  Virgin  should  conceive  is  found. 


SIMEON. 


if  not  in  the  Song  with  which  he  greeted  the  Lord's 
Christ,  and  in  which  his  habitual  convictions,  beHefs, 
hopes,  rose  to  their  highest  and  frankest  expression  ? 
Not  in  Luke's  description  of  him,  but  in  his  own 
unconscious,  and  therefore  more  significant,  disclosure 
of  himself,  we  may  expect  to  discover  what  he  was 
really  like,  and  to  gain  a  conception  of  him  which  will 
individualize  him  to  us  and  make  him  a  real  and  living 
man. 

If,  then,  we  look  at  his  Song  at  all  carefully,  we  shall 
find  in  it  (i)  a  noble  conception  of  Life  ;  (2)  a  noble 
conception  of  Death  ;  and  (3)  a  noble  conception  of 
Salvation  ;  while  from  all  three  we  may  infer  the  nobility 
of  the  heart  which  cherished  them. 

L  We  have  a  noble  conception  of  Life.  We  often  take 
Simeon's  words  as  if  they  were  a  prayer,  and  meant, 
"  Now  let,  or  permit,  thy  servant  depart :  "  whereas  they 
are  really  a  thanksgiving ;  "  Now  art  thou  letting  thy 
servant  depart."  Nor  does  even  this  rendering  ade- 
quately convey  his  meaning.  We  come  much  nearer  to 
it  if  we  render :  "  N'ozu  a7't  thou  relieving;  or  setting  free, 
thy  slave,  O  master  (literally,  "  O  despot  "),  according  to 
thy  tvord,  in  peace."  In  fact,  Simeon  regards  himself  as 
a  sentinel  whom,  by  his  word,  or  promise — "  Thou  shalt 
not  see  death  till  thou  hast  seen  the  Lord's  Christ" — the 
Great  Master,  or  Captain,  had  ordered  to  an  elevated  and 
dangerous  post,  and  charged  to  look  for  and  announce 


THE  SONG. 


the  advent  of  a  great  light  of  hope,  a  h'ght  which  was  to 
convey  glad  tidings  of  great  joy.  The  opening  scene  of 
the  Agamemnon  of  ^schylus  discloses,  as  some  of  you 
will  remember,  a  Watchman  who  for  nine  long  years  had 
been  looking  for  the  kindling  of  the  beacon,  the  "  blazing 
torch,"  the  "  bright  sign,"  the  "  blest  fire,"  which  should 
announce  the  fall  of  Troy  ;  and  who,  when  at  last  he 
beholds  the  welcome  signal,  sings  at  once  the  victory  of 
Greece  and  his  own  discharge ;  that  he  shall  no  longer 
be  chained  like  a  dog,  by  the  duty  of  his  post,  is  well- 
nigh  as  much  to  him  as  the  general  joy  in  which  he 
shares.  And,  in  like  manner,  Simeon  no  sooner  beholds 
the  Light  rising  on  the  distant  horizon  for  which  he  has 
waited  so  long,  than  he  at  once  proclaims  its  advent, 
with  its  glad  message  of  triumph,  and  rejoices  in  his 
own  release  from  his  prolonged  and  weary  task. 

To  him,  therefore,  life,  or  at  least  his  own  life,  shaped 
itself  as  the  task  of  a  watchman,  or  a  sentinel  on  duty 
— who  has  to  face  rough  weather  and  smooth  as  he 
paces  his  weary  beat,  to  confront  the  fears  and  hidden 
perils  of  the  darkness,  in  order  that  the  camp  he  guards 
may  be  secure  ;  but  who  is  sustained,  under  the  burden 
of  anxiety  and  weariness,  by  the  hope  of  receiving  a 
signal,  of  seeing  a  light  arise  in  the  darkness,  which  will 
not  only  release  him  from  his  post,  but  will  also  bring 
the  tidings,  or  the  prediction,  of  a  great  and  final  vic- 
tory.    And  that  is  a  very  noble,  though  by  no  means  a 


SIMEON. 


perfect,- conception  of  human  life.  It  is  imperfect ;  for  life 
is  too  large  and  complex  to  be  fully  rendered  by  any  one 
image.  But,  nevertheless,  it  is  a  noble  conception,  such 
as  any  Stoic  would  have  welcomed,  such  as  any  Christian 
may  welcome  if  only  he  illumine  the  sentinel's  duty  with 
the  sentinel's  hope. 

It  is  a  conception,  moreover,  which  may  be  very  help- 
ful to  us  in  many  of  the  conditions  in  which  we  are 
placed.  When  life  grows  as  weary  and  monotonous  to 
us,  through  the  prolonged  pressure  of  samely  duties,  as 
to  the  watchman  fixed  to  Agamemnon's  roof  or  to  a 
dog  chained  to  a  post ;  or  when  the  zest  of  youth  has 
passed  and  the  infirmities  and  disabilities  of  age,  or 
disease,  accumulate  upon  us  ;  or  when  we  are  weighed 
down  with  a  burden  of  cares,  anxieties,  and  fears,  many 
of  which  are  gross  and  palpable  enough,  but  to  some  of 
which  we  can  hardly  give  a  name  ;  when  flesh,  or  heart, 
fail  us,  or  both  fail  us,  it  surely  would  sustain  and  com- 
fort us  were  we  to  remember  that  our  post  has  been 
appointed  us  by  the  great  Captain  who  makes  no  mis- 
take ;  that  the  duties  and  the  burdens  allotted  to  us" have 
an  end  of  discipline  and  love,  and  are  intended  to  make 
us  stronger,  wiser,  better  ;  and  that,  however  long  it  may 
delay  its  coming,  a  great  Light  is  to  arise  upon  us  ;  that 
it  is  this  for  which  we  are  watching  and  serving :  and 
that  it  will  bring  with  it  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  for  all 
people  as  well  as  for  us.     Life  grows  very  sacred  and 


THE  SONG. 


beautiful  when  we  feel  that  vvc  arc  where  wc  arc,  and 
arc  doing  all  wc  do,  and  bearing  all  wc  have  to  bear,  by 
God's  will—"  according  to  thy  word  ;  "  and  arc  moving, 
through  darkness,  on  our  stedfast  round,  to  proclaim 
both  that  all  is  well,  because  all  is  going  on  under  the 
great  Taskmaster's  eye,  and  that  all  will  be  better  still 
so  soon  as  we  all  learn  to  see  in  the  Taskmaster  our 
Saviour  and  our  Friend. 

Simeon  was  by  no  means  the  first  poet  to  whom  this 
conception  of  life  commended  itself  A  greater  than  he, 
Job,  had  lit  upon  it  centuries  before,  though  to  him  it 
had  only  been  a  wish  instead  of  a  ruling  belief.  In  one 
of  his  most  hopeless  moods  he  cries  (Job  xiv.  13-15)  : 
"  If  only,  instead  of  this  endless  round  of  injustice  and 
misery,  God  would  appoint  me  a  set  time,  and  then 
remember  me,  all  the  days  of  that  hard  term  would  I 
wait,  till  my  discharge  came,  standing  to  my  post  on 
earth  with  immovable  and  uncomplaining  fidelity  till  I 
fell  at  it,  and  even  standing  at  it  again  in  Hades  till  that 
joyful  day  arrived,  and  the  light  shone  down  into  my 
darkness."  What  Job  longed  for,  we  have.  We  know 
that  a  day  ivill  come  on  which  God  will  call  for  us,  and 
we  shall  answer  Him.  Nay,  we  know  that  the  Light, 
which  is  the  Life  of  men,  has  risen  on  our  darkness, 
that  it  is  shining,  and  that  in  due  time  it  will  illuminate 
the  whole  earth.  Let  us  go  on  our  rounds,  then,  all 
our  appointed  term,  in  faith,  and  patience,  and  hope  ; 


SIMEON. 


assured  that  all  is  well  with  the  world  because  God  is  in 
heaven,  and  because  He  is  bringing  heaven  down  to 
earth. 

II.  In  Simeon's  Song  we  have  a  noble  conception  of 
Death.  He  was  not  to  die  till  he  had  seen  the  Lord's 
Christ.  But  now  that  he  has  seen  the  Christ,  he  is  in 
haste  to  be  gone  ;  for,  to  him,  death  is  the  relief  of  the 
sentinel  from  an  arduous  and  perilous  post  ;  it  is  the 
enfranchisement  of  a  slave  into  freedom  and  peace  : 
"  Now  art  thou  setting  free  thy  slave,  O  master,  iji  peace, 
according  to  thy  word  ;  "  for,  in  his  view,  the  sentinel 
was  also  a  slave,  and  the  discharge  of  the  sentinel  was 
also  the  manumission  of  the  slave. 

Relief  from  toil,  relief  from  danger,  relief  from  bond- 
age— can  any  conception  of  death  be  more  welcome 
and  attractive  to  weary,  worldworn,  sinful  men  ,-'  Only 
one  thing  could  render  it  more  attractive  and  complete, 
and  this  we,  who  have  the  mind  of  Christ,  are  bound  to 
supply  :  vi.':.,  that  our  relief  from  toil  will  not  be  an 
exemption  from  work,  but  an  added  capacity  for  labour 
which  will  take  all  toil  and  weariness  out  of  it  ;  that 
our  relief  from  danger  will  not  release  us  from  that 
strife  against  evil  in  which  even  the  holy  angels  arc 
engaged,  but  will  bring  us  an  immortal  strength  and 
serenity  in  virtue  of  which  we  shall  carry  on  the  conflict 
without  fear,  and  cherish  the  sure  and  certain  hope  that 
evil  must  in  the  end  be  overcome  of  good :  and  that  our 


THE  SONG. 


relief  from  bondage  will  not  be  a  discharge  from  ser- 
vice, but  will  bring  us  a  vigour  and  a  grace  which  will 
make  our  service  our  delight,  since  henceforth  we  shall 
serve  as  sons  and  not  as  slaves. 

An  enfranchisement  into  freedom  and  into  peace,  this 
was  Simeon's  conception  of  death,  and  should  be  ours 
if,  like  hiin,  we  have  seen  the  Lord's  Christ.  And  if 
we  thus  conceive  it;  if  we  know  and  believe  that  Death 
will  strike  off  the  fetters  of  our  imperfection,  and  give 
us  a  freedom,  and  an  inward  tranquility  and  harmony  of 
nature,  which  will  enable  us  to  serve  God  and  our  fellows 
without  weariness,  and  to  take  our  part  in  the  eternal 
strife  with  evil  without  any  fear  or  doubt  of  its  final 
issue,  why  should  we  dread  to  die  ?  If  Simeon  could 
leave  the  world  without  regret,  in  part  because  he  be- 
lieved that  all  would  go  well  with  a  world  into  which 
Christ  had  come,  and  in  part  because  a  still  brighter 
prospect,  the  prospect  of  an  immediate  freedom  and  an 
immediate  peace,  awaited  ////;/  in  the  world  to  which  he 
went,  we  surely,  if  we  share  his  convictions,  may  be 
content  to  follow  him  when  our  turn  shall  come,  and 
greet  the  kindly  angel  of  death  with  the  words,  "  Lord, 
now  art  thou  setting  free  thy  servant,  in  peace,  according 
to  thy  word." 

III.  We  have  a  noble  conception  of  Salvation.  Simeon 
was  content  to  go  because  his  eyes  had  seen  the  salva- 
tion of  God.     And  he  conceived  of  this  salvation  as  a 


SIMEON. 


salvation  prepared  before  "the  face  of  all  peopleSy^  all 
races  ;  as  a  light  which  was  to  lift  the  veil  of  darkness, 
or  ignorance,  from  the  eyes  of  the  Gentiles,  as  well  as 
to  shed  a  new  glory  on  the  humiliated  and  enslaved 
sons  of  Israel.  And  this  conquest  of  darkness  by  light, 
this  overcoming  of  evil  with  good,  which  was  to  be  for 
all  men  and  upon  all,  was  surely  a  very  large  and  noble 
conception  of  Salvation. 

We  commonly  attribute  a  narrow  and  exclusive 
spirit  to  the  Jews,  and  think  of  them  as  men  who, 
because  they  were  elected  to  convey  a  blessing  to  all 
the  families  of  the  earth,  deemed  themselves  the 
favourites  of  Heaven,  and  despised  all  who  were  outside 
the  pale  of  God's  covenant  with  the  seed  of  Abraham. 
And,  no  doubt,  the  ordinary  Jew  ivas  of  this  haughty 
and  intolerant  temper  ;  but  he  was  so  in  the  teeth  of 
all  the  highest  teaching  vouchsafed  him.  For  with  one 
consent  the  Psalmists  and  Prophets  of  Israel  held 
Jehovah  to  be  the  Father  of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh,  who 
looked  with  equal  affection  on  all  his  children,  and 
had  elected  one  member  of  the  great  human  family 
to  special  privilege  only  for  the  sake  of  the  rest,  only 
that  through  the  chosen  seed  his  truth  and  grace  might 
be  revealed  and  demonstrated  to  all : — as,  indeed,  we 
are  beginning  to  discover  now  that,  in  our  Revised 
Version  of  the  Old  Testament,  "  all  peoples  "  or  "  all 
nations,"    has   been    substituted    for    the    familiar   but 


THE  SONG.  13 


ambiguous  phrase  "  all  people."  People  might  mean, 
and  was  often  taken  to  mean  no  more  than  the  people 
of  Israel  ;  but  "  peoples  "  must  include  all  kindreds  and 
tribes  and  tongues. 

Simeon  does  but  shew  the  true  prophetic,  i.e.,  the 
true  catholic,  spirit  when  he  conceives  of  the  salvation 
of  God  as  extending  to  the  Gentile  as  well  as  the  Jew, 
and  delights  in  a  Mercy  as  wide  as  the  world.  And 
we  fall  short  of  that  spirit,  we  sin  against  the  revelation 
of  the  Old  Testament  no  less  than  that  of  the  New, 
so  often  as  we  affect  any  special  personal  interest  in 
the  fatherly  love  and  compassion  of  God,  or  even  when 
we  conceive  of  his  salvation  as  confined  to  the  Church. 
The  Church  has  been  elected,  as  the  Jewish  race  was 
elected,  solely  for  the  sake  of  the  world,  solely  that  it 
may  carry  the  news  and  the  power  of  salvation  to  those 
who  are  outside  its  pale.  If  we  have  seen  the  Light, 
it  is  that  we  may  bear  witness  to  the  Light ;  that  we 
may  announce  its  rising,  reflect  its  splendour,  and 
believe  that  it  will  shine  on  till  the  darkness  is  past 
and  every  shadow  has  fled  away.  If  we  are  sentinels, 
it  is  that  we  may  guard  and  save  the  whole  camp,  and 
not  simply  our  own  company  or  our  own  regiment. 

These,  then,  were  the  principles  and  convictions  by 
which  Simeon  was  animated  ;  and  they  throw  no  little 
light  on  his  character  ;  they  distinguish  him  from,  they 
raise  him   above,   most  of  his   neighbours.     If  we   are 


SIMEON. 


now  asked  to  describe  or  define  him,  we  may  say,  he 
was  a  man  who  thought  of  Hfe  as  a  hard  round  of 
dut}',  cheered  by  a  great  hope  ;  who  thought  of  death 
as  a  discharge  from  that  duty  which  would  raise  him 
from  a  slave  into  a  son,  and  replace  bondage  and  fear 
and  toil  with  freedom  and  peace ;  who  thought  of  the 
divine  salvation  as  an  inward  illumination,  a  triumph 
of  good  over  evil,  co-extensive  with  the  human  race. 
And  he  was  true  to  his  principles  and  convictions.  As 
he  thought  in  his  heart,  so  he  was,  so  he  did.  For 
many  weary  years  he  walked  his  little  round  of  Jewish 
commandments  and  ordinances  blameless,  always  wait- 
ing however,  and  always  on  the  watch,  for  the  rising  of 
that  Sun  whose  rising  was  to  be  the  signal  for  the  entire 
army  to  awake  and  advance.  And  when  the  signal 
came,  which  meant  life  to  the  world  but  death  to  him, 
he  did  not  shrink  from  death,  but  hastened  toward  it 
and  greeted  it  with  the  joy  of  a  sentinel  relieved  from 
his  post,  of  a  slave  emancipated  into  a  tranquil  freedom. 
Before  he  saw  death  he  saw  the  Lord's  Christ,  and  he 
rejoiced  in  "that  great  birth  of  time,"  not  simply  be- 
cause it  brought  deliverance  to  him,  nor  simply  because 
it  would  console  and  glorify  Israel,  but  also  and  mainly 
because  it  was  the  pledge  of  salvation  for  the  whole  world. 
In  fine,  he  was  true  to  his  whole  creed.  And  I  do 
not  see  how  we  can  doubt  that,  if  we  were  true  to  it,  it 
would  lend  a   certain   nobility   and    distinction  to  our 


THE  SONG.  1 5 

characters  and  lives  which  as  yet  they  sorely  lack.  And 
we  are  bound  to  be  true  to  it  ;  for  his  creed  is  our  creed. 
We  too  profess  to  regard  life  as  a  term  of  duty,  during 
which  we  are  under  stringent  discipline,  and  have  to 
pay  sharply  and  heavily  for  every  dereliction  from  that 
duty,  but  arc  cheered  and  sustained  by  a  great  hope, 
for  the  fulfilment  of  which  we  wait  with  courage  and 
with  patience.  Yet  how  often  do  we  fail  in  our  duty  ! 
how  faintly  do  we  trust  this  large  hope  !  We  too  profess 
to  believe  that  death  will  be  a  release,  an  enfranchise- 
ment into  an  ampler,  freer,  more  tranquil  life :  and  yet 
when  death  draws  nigh,  whether  to  us  or  to  those  whom 
we  love,  how  often  we  shrink  back  from  it  in  dread, 
or  submit  to  it  as  to  a  miserable  necessity  for  which 
nothing  can  console  us  !  We  too  profess  to  believe  that 
Christ  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men,  and  to  rejoice  in  the 
wide  sweep  of  his  redeeming  influence  :  and  yet  which 
of  us  does  not  think  far  more  of  his  own  salvation,  or  of 
that  of  the  community  to  which  he  is  attached,  and  feel 
far  more  sure  of  it,  than  of  the  salvation  of  the  world  ? 

Which  of  us  is  as  true  to  our  convictions  as  Simeon 
was  to  his  ?  It  is  because  we  are  not  so  true  that  our 
life  is  so  much  less  dutiful,  and  so  much  less  hopeful, 
than  it  should  be,  and  that  death  is  often  a  terror  to  us, 
and  that  the  salvation  of  Christ  takes  so  little  effect 
upon  us.  Let  our  prayer,  then,  be  :  "  Lord,  we  believe, 
but  help,  O  help,  our  unbelief.  Make  us  true  to  our 
convictions,  and  faithful  to  our  hopes." 


IT. 

SIMEON. 

II.— THE  PREDICTION. 

"  Behold,  this  child  is  set  for  the  falling  and  the  rising  up  of 
many  in  Israel  ;  and  for  a  sign  to  be  spoken  against  :  yea,  and  a 
sword  shall  pierce  through  thine  own  soul  ;  that  thoughts  out  of 
many  hearts  may  be  revealed."— Luke  ii.  34,  35. 

We  have  considered  the  Song  of  Simeon  ;  we  are  now 
to  consider  his  Prediction.  In  his  Song  we  found  a 
noble  conception  of  life,  a  noble  conception  of  death, 
and  a  noble  conception  of  the  salvation  of  God.  He 
thought  of  life  as  a  term  of  hard  and  perilous  duty,  like 
that  of  a  sentinel  going  his  rounds,  but  as  cheered  by 
the  hope  of  receiving  a  signal  which  would  announce 
the  hour  of  dawn  and  of  victory.  He  thought  of  death 
as  the  relief  of  a  sentinel  from  his  post,  as  the  manu- 
mission of  a  slave  into  freedom  and  peace  ;  as  a  release, 
therefore,  from  toil  and  danger  and  bondage.  And  he 
thought  of  the  Divine  salvation  as  an  universal  salva- 
tion, as  extending  to  all  men,  as  a  light  to  lighten  the 
Gentiles,  and  the  consolation  and  glory  of  Israel. 


THE  PREDICTION.  17 

There  was,  therefore,  an  clement  of  prediction  in  his 
very  Song,  and  a  very  valuable  clement,  as  we  shall 
soon  discover.  If  he  saw  what  the  Advent  meant,  he 
also  foresaw  "the  end  of  the  Lord,"  the  final  goal  of 
good  to  which  the  mission  of  Christ  was  to  round.  And, 
in  large  measure,  his  prediction  has  already  been  ful- 
filled, though  a  still  larger  fulfilment  awaits  it.  The 
Light  has  lightened  the  Gentiles  ;  we  owe  Christendom 
to  it  and  the  Christian  civilization.  It  has  proved  the 
glory  of  Israel  :  for  but  for  the  advent  ot  Christ,  but  for 
the  work  which  lie  began  and  his  disciples  have  carried 
on,  Judaism  might  have  sunk,  at  the  fall  of  Jerusalem, 
into  an  obscure  and  narrow  sect,  and  the  Old  Testament 
Scriptures  might  have  been  as  little  to  the  modern  as 
they  were  to  the  ancient  world.  In  short,  we  owe  the 
Bible,  and  all  that  the  Bible  has  brought  us,  to  the 
coming  of  Christ  into  the  world.  If  He  had  not  come 
there  could  of  course  have  been  no  New  Testament. 
If  He  had  not  come,  in  all  probability  the  Old  Testa- 
ment would  have  been  no  more  to  us  than  the  sacred 
books  of  any  other  race  ;  perhaps  not  so  much  as  the 
writings  of  the  Classical  philosophers  and  poets,  or  the 
legends  of  our  own  Norse,  Celtic,  and  German  fore- 
fathers. 

Simeon  foresaw  and  foretold,  then,  the  large  ultimate 
results  of  the  advent  of  Christ ;  but  he  also  foresaw  and 
foretold  its  nearer,  its  more  immediate,  results  ;  and 
3 


SIMEON. 


these  results  are  the  theme  of  what  we  call  his  Predic- 
tion to  distinguish  it  from  his  Psalm.  This  Child,  he 
says,  who  is  to  be  the  Light  of  the  Gentiles  and  the 
Glory  of  Israel,  is  also  to  be  as  a  Rock  over  which 
many  will  fall  and  on  which  many  will  rise,  a  Signal  for 
strife  and  gainsaying,  a  Sword  piercing  and  dividing  tl  e 
very  soul,  even  where  the  soul  is  purest,  and  a  Touch- 
stone revealing  the  inward  thoughts  of  many  hearts  and 
shewing  how  evil  they  are.  Nor,  large  as  the  contradic- 
tion looks  between  these  two  conceptions  of  the  im- 
mediate and  the  ultimate  results  of  Christ's  influence 
on  the  world,  is  there  any  real  contradiction  between 
them.  For  if  the  Light  is  to  shine  into  a  dark  world, 
or  a  dark  heart,  it  must  struggle  with  and  disperse  the 
darkness  before  it  can  shed  order  and  fruitfulness  and 
gladness  into  it.  In  such  a  world  as  this  there  can 
be  no  victory  without  conflict,  no  achievement  without 
strenuous  effort,  no  joy  without  pain,  no  perfection 
except  through  suffering. 

And,  indeed,  had  Simeon  left  us  nothing  but  a  pre- 
diction of  light  and  glory  as  the  consequence  of  Christ's 
coming,  had  he  7iot  foretold  the  doubts  it  would  quicken, 
the  pain  it  would  involve,  the  evil  and  imperfection  it 
would  disclose,  the  opposition  it  would  excite,  we  might 
well  have  distrusted  him  and  have  lost  the  hope  with 
which  his  words  inspire  us.  For  as  yet  we  see  no  uni- 
versal light  and  glory,  whether  in  the  world  around  us 


THE  PREDICTION.  19 


or  in  our  own  hearts.  But  \vc  do  sec  a  darkness  which 
struggles  against  the  light ;  we  do  see  the  opposition 
of  gainsayers  ;  we  are  conscious  of  many  doubts,  mis- 
givings, imperfections,  of  much  which  even  in  the  best 
of  us  sets  itself  against  the  truth  and  grace  of  Christ 
Had  Simeon  passed  by  all  these,  and  spoken  of  nothing 
but  a  Light  which  would  irradiate  and  glorify  all  the 
sons  of  men,  our  own  experience  would  have  rendered 
his  prediction  dubious  or  incredible  to  us.  It  is 
because  he  frankly  recognizes  these  nearer  and  more 
immediate  results  of  the  action  of  Christ  upon  man  and 
the  world  that  we  can  cherish  the  hope  that,  through 
these  near  and  present  results,  we  may  advance  into  an 
order  and  economy  in  which,  as  in  God  Himself,  there 
shall  be  no  darkness  at  all,  and  believe  that,  beyond 
this  instant  scene  of  strife  and  imperfection  and  sorrow, 
there  lies  a  world  of  gladness  and  victory  and  peace. 

F\ir  from  being  unwelcome  to  us,  then,  this  Predic- 
tion, at  which  we  must  now  look  a  little  more  closely, 
should  be  very  welcome  to  us,  since  it  recognizes  that 
darker  sadder  side  of  the  Christian  history  with  which 
we  are  only  too  familiar  ;  while  yet  it  bids  us  hold  fast 
the  hope  of  large,  happy,  and  splendid  results  yet  to 
flow  from  the  advent  and  mission  of  our  Lord. 

In  his  Prediction  Simeon  bases  himself  on  the  older 
prophets,  and,  in  especial,  takes  many  thoughts  and 
images  from  the  great  Immanuel   prophecy  of  Isaiah 


SIMEON. 


(Chaps,  vii.-ix.).  His  "light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles" 
was  probably  derived  from  Isaiah's  prediction  (Chap. 
ix.  2)  :  "  The  people  that  walked  in  darkness  have  seen 
a  great  light  ;  they  that  dwell  in  the  land  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  upon  them  hath  the  light  shined."  His  com- 
parison of  the  Holy  Child  to  a  Rock  on  which  some 
would  fall  and  be  bruised,  while  others  would  plant  their 
feet  on  it  and  rise,  seems  to  have  been  taken  from 
Isaiah's  description  of  the  Lord  of  hosts  (Chap.  viii.  14, 
15)  :  "And  he  shall  be  for  a  sanctuary  ;  but  for  a  stone 
of  stumbling  and  a  rock  of  offence  to  both  the  houses 
of  Israel ;  .  .  .  and  many  shall  stumble  thereon,  and 
fall,  and  be  broken."  And  his  comparison  of  Christ  to 
a  Signal  for  contradiction,  a  sign  to  be  spoken  against, 
might  never  have  been  made  if  Isaiah  had  not  declared 
(Chap.  vii.  14)  that  his  little  son,  Immanuel,  should  be 
a  sign  which  Israel  would  despise  and  reject.  Like 
Isaiah,  and  because  he  had  studied  Isaiah,  Simeon  con- 
ceived of  the  true  Immanuel,  the  Lord's  Christ,  as  a 
suffering  Messiah  who  would  be  despised  and  rejected 
of  men,  a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief; 
as  passing  through  conflict  to  victory,  as  rising  by  suf- 
fering to  perfection.  And  hence  he  warned  Mary  that 
even  her  pure  and  loving  heart  would  be  pierced  by 
many  sorrows  as  she  saw  her  son  thwarted  and  rejected 
by  the  very  men  He  came  to  save  and  bless,  sorrows  as 
keen  and  cruel  as  if  the  large  barbaric  "  sword "  used 


THE  PREDICTION. 


by  the  Thracit'in  mercenaries  ^  had  been  thrust  into  her 
bosom.  Hence,  too,  he  warned  us,  and  all  men,  that 
contact  with  Christ  would  determine  our  character  and 
fate,  revealing  the  thoughts  hidden  within  our  hearts. 
Nay,  he  implies  that  the  thoughts  thus  revealed  would 
at  first,  and  for  the  more  part,  be  evil  thoughts,  thoughts 
which  betrayed  hostility  to  the  Lord  and  Saviour  of 
men  :  for  the  Greek  word  {hoaXoyLo-^oi)  here  rendered 
"  thoughts  "  almost  always  carries  an  evil  implication  in 
it,  and  denotes  "the  weary  working  of  the  understanding 
in  the  service  of  a  bad  heart."  It  conveys  the  idea  that 
as  Christ  drew  near  to  men  the  first  effect  of  his  presence 
and  teaching  would  be  to  create  a  controversy,  a 
dialogue,  in  the  soul,  in  which  the  lower  of  the  two 
voices  would  be  the  louder,  and  the  worse  would  be 
made  to  appear  the  better  cause. 

On  the  whole,  then,  when  we  look  at  it  at  all  carefully, 
the  Prediction  of  Simeon  has  a  very  gloomy  aspect,  and 
speaks  with  a  tone  of  sad  foreboding  in  strange  contrast 
to  the  riant  tone  of  the  Song  of  thanksgiving  which 
immediately  precedes  it.  But  was  it  too  gloomy  for  the 
facts  ?  Was  not  every  jot  and  tittle  of  it  fulfilled  within 
three  and  thirty  years  of  its  utterance  .-•  Is  it  not  still 
finding  a  wide  and  large  fulfilment  ? 

When  they  were  uttered,  nothing  could  have  seemed 
more  improbable,  more  incredible,  than  the  words  of 
'  So  the  Greek  word  for  "sword  "  implies. 


SIMEON. 


Simeon  ;  for  who,  unless  taught  of  God,  could  have  anti- 
cipated that  the  Jews  would  passionately  hate  and  op- 
pose the  Messiah  for  whose  advent  they  had  waited  and 
prayed  with  strong  desire  ?  And  yet  his  words  so  exactly 
describe  the  effects  of  our  Lord's  earthly  ministry  that 
they  might  have  been  uttered  after  the  event.  He  was 
set  for  the  fall  and  the  rising  of  many  ;  for  the  fall  of  the 
Scribes,  Pharisees,  Sadducees,  all  that  was  held  to  be 
wisest  and  most  religious  in  Israel  ;  and  for  the  rise  of 
publicans  and  sinners,  peasants  and  fishermen,  all  that 
was  held  to  be  outcast  and  accursed  in  Israel.  The  most 
conspicuous  result  of  the  Advent  on  the  men  of  his  own 
time  and  race  has  been  that  it  has  turned  their  world 
upside  down,  "  exalting  them  that  were  of  low  degree," 
and  plucking  down  from  their  seats  the  high  and  mighty 
and  wise,  insomuch  that  we  honour  those  whom  they 
despised,  and  condemn  those  whom  they  honoured  and 
revered.  Christ  luas  a  Sign  spoken  against,  and  that  not 
in  Israel  alone  ;  the  historians  of  Rome  have  no  better 
name  for  his  teaching  than  an  "  execrable,  extravagant, 
and  malefic  superstition,"  and  thirty  years  after  his  death 
the  Jews  knew  his  followers  only  as  a  sect  "which  was 
everywhere  spoken  against."  The  Sword  did  pierce 
Mary's  heart,  and  not  hers  alone,  when  she  and  those 
who  loved  and  trusted  Jesus  saw  Him  persecuted, 
reviled,  betrayed,  and  crucified,  and  feared  that  it  was 
not  by  Him  that  God  would  redeem  Israel.     Christ  and 


THE  PREDICTION.  23 

his  Word  iverc  a  Touchstone  by  which  the  thouj^hts  of 
many  hearts  were  revealed  and  arc  still  revealed.     If 
we  wanted  to  sum  up  the  effect  of  his  ministry  on  the 
Israel  of  his  day,  what  better  account  of  it  could  we  give 
than  this? — that  it  disclosed  what  men  were  thinking  of, 
what  they  zvere,  in  their  hearts,  and  proved  their  thoughts 
to  be  tainted  with  evil,  proved  that  under  all  their  appa- 
rent devotion  to  religion  their  hearts  were  estranged  from 
God,  and  that  they  were  unable  to  read  and  understand 
the  sacred  oracles  which  were  their  boast  and  pride.     Is 
not  the  pure  word  of  Christ  still    a  touchstone,  both  in 
the  world  at  large  and  in  the  individual  soul  ?  Wherever 
it  comes  with  any  power,  does  it  not  still  excite  a  strife, 
a  controversy,  an  opposition,  which  betrays  our  inmost 
thoughts,  our  real  bent,  our  true  character  ?    Even  if  we 
accept  it,  is  not  its  first  effect  upon  us  to  shew  us  how 
much  evil  lurks  in  our  nature,  and  how  strong  that  evil  is  ? 
No  truer  picture  of  the  results  of  Christ's  advent  and 
mission  could  even  now  be  painted  on  a  canvass  so  small 
as  that  of  Simeon.     With   a   few   strokes,   in   a  single 
sentence,  he  delineates  and  sums  up  the  religious  history 
of  all  the  Christian  centuries,  no  less  than  that  of  his  own 
age.     All  our  subsequent  experience  has  but  shewn  how 
true  was  the  inspiration  by  which  he  was  moved. 

Now  there  are  three  practical  inferences  to  be  drawn 
from  this  Prediction  so  important,  because  so  pertinent 


24  SJMEOiy. 


to  our  spiritual  needs  and  moods,  that  I  have  abbreviated 
my  exposition  of  it  as  much  as  I  could  in  order  to  leave 
myself  time  to  indicate  them. 

I.  When  the  Word  of  Christ  comes  home  to  you, 
whether  it  come  to  quicken  you  to  a  new  life,  or  to  con- 
vince you  of  some  truth  which  you  had  not  recognized 
before,  or  had  not  reduced  to  practice,  do  not  be  amazed 
and  discouraged  if  you  stumble  at  it,  if  it  awaken  doubt 
and  contradiction  in  your  hearts,  if  you  find  it  hard  to 
believe,  and  still  harder  to  live  by.  It  is  no  strange 
thing  which  is  happening  to  you,  but  the  common  and 
normal  experience  of  all  who  believe  in  Him.  The 
advent  of  Christ  in  the  heart,  his  coming  in  power,  must 
resemble  his  advent  into  the  world,  must  create  a  strife 
between  the  good  and  the  evil  in  your  nature,  must 
disclose  so  much  that  is  evil  in  you  as  to  make  you  fear 
goodness  to  be  beyond  your  reach.  How,  but  by  the 
conviction  of  sin,  can  you  be  made  penitent,  and  driven 
to  lay  hold  on  the  Salvation  which  takes  away  sin  ? 
And  the  oftener  Christ  comes,  the  nearer  He  draws  to 
you,  the  more  fully  He  enters  into  your  life — the  deeper 
will  be  your  conviction  of  sin,  of  a  tainted  and  imperfect 
nature  ;  till,  at  times,  you  will  feel  as  if  a  sword  had 
been  thrust  into  your  very  soul.  This,  indeed,  is  what 
He  comes  to  you  for  ;  to  separate  between  the  evil  and 
the  good,  to  make  you  conscious  of  evils  you  did  not 
suspect,  so  conscious  that  you  hate  and  long  to  be  dc- 


THE  PREDICTION.  25 

livcrcd  from  them.  For  "the  word  of  God  is  hvin^, 
and  active,  and  sharper  than  any  two -edged  sword,  and 
pierces  even  to  the  dividing  of  soul  and  spirit,  joints 
and  marrow,  and  is  quick  to  discern  the  thoughts  and 
intents  of  the  heart."  The  more  resolutely  you  set 
yourselves  to  live  by  that  Word,  the  more  sensible  will 
you  become  of  certain  inclinations  and  infirmities  which 
oppose  themselves  to  every  advance  you  would  make. 
As  you  follow  Christ  along  the  paths  of  truth  and  duty, 
new  aspects  of  truth  will  present  themselves  to  you,  new 
duties  will  lay  their  claim  upon  you.  And  all  your 
accepted  beliefs  and  customary  obediences  may  join  the 
enemy  for  the  moment,  and  resist  the  new  light  and  the 
new  claims.  The  more  you  multiply  the  points  of  attack, 
the  more  will  the  points  and  energies  of  resistance  be 
multiplied,  till  your  whole  life  seems  a  mere  struggle, 
and  often  an  ineffectual  struggle,  to  be  true  to  what  you 
see  and  to  do  the  thing  you  would,  and  you  become 
practically  familiar  with  that  common  anomaly  of  Chris- 
tian experience  which  makes  good  men  deem  themselves 
weaker  and  more  weak  the  stronger  they  grow,  and 
think  worse  of  themselves  the  better  they  arc. 

In  such  times  of  conflict  and  apparent  failure,  it  will 
be  an  unspeakable  comfort  and  encouragement  to  you 
to  know,  and  to  remember,  that  they  are  not  peculiar  to 
you,  but  common  to  all  the  children  of  God  ;  that  if 
Christ  is  to  be  formed  in  you,  the  hope  of  glory,  He 


26  SIMEON. 


must  at  first  be  as  a  Rock  over  which  you  will  stumble, 
a  Signal  to  call  out  all  the  contradictions  and  opposi- 
tions of  your  complex  nature,  a  Sword  which  will  pierce 
to  your  soul,  a  Touchstone  which  will  disclose  the 
quality  of  the  material  of  which  you  are  made,  and 
shew  you  how  evil  many  of  your  thoughts  and  dis- 
positions are. 

2.  This,  I  say,  is  a  great  comfort,  to  know  that  our 
experience  of  the  strife  and  pain  and  self-exposure 
which  Religion  breeds  is  an  inevitable  and  common 
experience,  which  all  who  were  in  Christ  before  us  have 
passed  through,  which  has  been  deepest  and  most 
enduring  in  those  who  have  followed  Him  most  closely 
and  served  Him  best.  But  it  is  not  the  only  comfort  or 
encouragement  which  the  Prediction  of  Simeon  suggests. 
If  he  had  not  foreseen  the  nearer  and  immediate 
results  of  Christ's  advent,  we  might,  as  I  have  admitted, 
have  distrusted  him  when  he  spake  of  its  distant  and 
ultimate  results.  If  he  had  not  told  us  of  the  conflict 
and  sorrow,  the  self-exposure  and  self-contempt  to 
which  a  faithful  reception  of  Christ  subjects  us,  we 
could  hardly  have  believed  him  when  he  speaks  of 
Christ  as  the  Consolation  for  all  sorrow,  and  the  Light 
which  is  to  glorify  the  whole  dark  world.  But  when  we 
find  all  that  he  said  of  the  nearer  results  of  Christ's 
coming  to  be  true,  we  can  hardly  help  believing  him 
when  he  speaks  to  us  of  its  happy  ultimate  results.     It 


THE  PREDICTION.  27 

could  hardly  have  sccincd  more  improbable,  at  the  time 
at  which  he  spake,  that  the  Christ  should  be  despised 
and  rejected  by  the  Jews,  than  it  now  seems  that  these 
struggling  and  imperfect  lives  of  ours  are  to  pass  and 
rise  into  a  perfect  freedom  and  a  perfect  peace ;  that 
the  Light,  which  now  strives  confusedly  with  the  dark- 
ness of  our  hearts,  is  one  day  to  irradiate  them  with  a 
beauty  and  a  splendour  which  will  make  us  meet  to 
sit  down  with  Christ  in  heavenly  places.  The  one  part 
of  the  Prediction  has  been  fulfilled,  improbable  as  it 
was  :  why  should  not  the  other  part  be  fulfilled,  incredible 
as  it  may  seem  ? 

Simeon  has  approved  himself  a  faithful  witness  ;  we 
have  found  in  our  own  experience  that  Christ  is  a  Rock 
of  stumbling  and  offence,  a  Signal  which  calls  out  all 
the  opposition  of  an  imperfect  nature,  a  Sword  which 
pierces  the  very  soul  and  divides  the  evil  in  us  from 
the  good,  a  Touchstone  which  reveals  our  most  secret 
thoughts  and  bents :  let  us  also  believe  that  He  will 
be  our  Consolation,  our  Light,  our  Glory. 

3.  We  may  well  believe  it.  Per  augusta  ad  augusta, 
through  a  narrow  way  to  a  large  place,  through  much 
struggle  with  many  difficulties  to  a  glorious  end, 
through  conflict  to  victory,  seems  to  be  the  verj'  motto 
of  the  Christian  life.  And  this  thought  also  is  con- 
tained in  Simeon's  prediction.  I  have  already  spoken 
of  the  wide  apparent   disparity  between  his   prophecy 


SIMEON. 


of  the  immediate  and  his  prophecy  of  the  ultimate 
results  of  Christ's  advent  ;  the  one  all  strife  and  pain 
and  shame,  the  other  all  consolation  and  peace,  all 
light  and  glory.  But  what  if  the  one  be  the  way  to 
the  other  ?  Simeon  seems  to  imply  that  the  one  is  the 
way  to  the  other.  It  was  by  the  Spirit  of  God  he 
foretold  that  this  Child  was  to  be  a  Light  to  lighten 
the  Gentiles  and  the  Glory  of  Israel.  It  was  by  the 
selfsame  Spirit  he  foretold  that  this  Child  was  to  be 
a  Rock  of  offence,  a  Signal  for  contradiction,  a  Sword 
in  the  soul,  a  Touchstone  to  expose  our  inmost  thoughts. 
And  this  latter  prediction,  conveyed  in  the  words  of  my 
text,  is  so  framed,  especially  in  the  Greek,  as  to  imply  ^ 
that  it  was  by  a  Divine  intention,  and  in  order  to  realize 
a  gracious  Divine  end,  that  Christ  was  to  bring  strife 
on  the  earth,  to  kindle  an  inward  war,  to  disclose  the 
lurking  evils  of  the  human  heart.  He  was  set,  "  in  order 
that  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  should  be  revealed  " 
— set  by  God  for  this  very  purpose.  So  that  when  our 
thoughts  are  exposed,  when  we  have  to  endure  the 
inward  conflict  between  evil  and  good,  when  the  word 
of  Christ  pierces  and  rends  our  hearts,  all  is  according 
to  a  Divine  order,  a  Divine  intention  ;  all  is  intended 
to  prepare  and  conduct  us  to  that  Divine  end,  the 
salvation  of  our  souls.  It  is  all  meant  to  prepare  us 
for  a  time  in  which  our  souls  shall  be  so  flooded  and 
suffused  with  the  Divine  Light  that  there  shall  be  no 


THE  PREDICTION.  29 


more  darkness  in  us,  so  penetrated  with  the  Divine 
Glory  that  sin  and  sorrow  and  shame  shall  for  ever 
flee  away.  And  if  this  be  God's  intention,  if  this  is 
the  end  to  which  he  is  conducting  us,  who  will  not 
bear  the  strife  and  pain  and  self-contempt  of  this 
present  imperfect  life  with  patience,  nay,  with  courage 
and  with  hope  ? 


III. 

THE  REDEMPTION  'OF   THE  REDEEMER. 

"And  when  the  days  of  their  purification  according  to  the  law 
of  Moses  were  fulfilled,  they  brought  him  up  to  Jerusalem,  to 
present  him  to  the  Lord  (as  it  is  written  in  the  law  of  the  Lord, 
Every  male  that  openeth  the  womb  shall  be  called  holy  to  the 
Lord),  and  to  offer  a  sacrifice  according  to  that  which  is  said  in 
the  law  of  the  Lord,  A  pair  of  turtledoves,  or  two  young  pigeons." 
— Luke  ii.  22-24. 

The  law  of  Moses  required  that  every  Hebrew  woman 
who  had  given  birth  to  a  man-child  should  be  held 
unclean  for  forty  days,  and  that  during  these  da}'s  she 
should  "  touch  no  hallowed  thing,  nor  come  into  the 
sanctuary."  But,  "  when  the  days  of  her  purification  were 
accomplished,"  she  was  to  "bring  a  lamb  of  the  first 
year  for  a  burnt-offering,  and  a  young  pigeon,  or  a 
turtledove,  for  a  sin-offering,  to  the  door  of  the  taber- 
nacle ; "  and  the  officiating  priest,  having  "  made  an 
atonement  for  her,"  she  was  pronounced  "clean."  If 
unable  to  offer  a  lamb,  she  was  to  bring  two  turtledoves, 
or  two  pigeons.  It  was  in  obedience  to  this  enactment 
that  "  Mary,  when   the    days  of  her   purification   were 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER,         31 

accomplished,"  brought  her  young  Child  to  the  temple, 
to  present  Him  before  the  Lord,  and  offered  her  modest 
sacrifice  of  a  pair  of  doves.  And  if  the  law  which  for 
forty  days  excluded  the  m(;thcr  from  the  Sanctuary, 
and  made  all  that  she  touched  unclean,  had  a  certain 
rigour  in  it,  surely  the  law  which  appointed  a  yearling 
lamb  and  a  young  dove — the  very  symbols  of  innocence 
and  beauty — a  thank-offering  for  the  birth  of  a  child 
had  a  touch  of  poetry  and  tenderness  in  it  which  must 
have  gone  straight  to  every  mother's  heart.  We  naturally 
associate  childhood,  or  at  least  infancy,  with  whatsoever 
is  lovely  and  innocent  and  pure  ;  and  we  can  easily 
understand  how,  as  the  little  procession  went  by,  the 
mother  carrying  her  babe  and  leading  the  lamb  or 
caressing  the  dove,  many  hearts  besides  her  own  would 
be  moved,  and  would  revert  for  a  moment  to  the  purity 
and  gentleness  of  those  early  days  when  all  things 
seemed  fair  and  everybody  good. 

Mary  and  Joseph  were  not  rich,  nor  even  "well-to-do," 
or  they  would  not  have  brought  the  offering  of  poverty, 
two  young  pigeons.  And  if  the  mother  of  Christ  was 
poor,  there  need  be  no  shame  in  poverty  ;  poverty  can 
be  no  proof  that  He  does  not  love  us.  Mary's  pure  and 
meditative  heart  was  worth  far  more  than  many  barns 
and  much  goods  to  bestow  in  them. 

St.  Luke  speaks  not  of  her,  but  of  their,  purification. 
And  the  word  suggests,  even  if  it  docs  not  mean,  that 


32    THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER. 

Mary  came  up  to  the  temple  to  purify  her  Son  as  well 
as  herself;  came,  not  only  to  present  Him  before  the 
Lord,  but  also  to  ransom  Him  from  the  service  of  the 
priesthood :  all  of  which  is  perfectly  true,  whether  Luke 
did  or  did  not  intend  to  convey  it. 

By  the  Hebrew  law  the  firstfruits  of  every  crop,  and 
every  male  that  first  opened  the  womb  whether  of  sheep, 
cattle,  or  other  clean  beasts,  was  set  apart  from  the 
secular  uses  of  life,  and  devoted  to  the  "service  of  the 
Sanctuary.  In  like  manner,  the  firstborn  son  of  every 
family  was  holy  to  the  Lord,  set  apart  to  the  priestly 
function.  This  law,  however,  was  soon  commuted  : 
"  Behold,"  said  God,  "  I  have  taken  the  Levites  from 
among  the  children  of  Israel  instead  of  all  tJie  firstbortir 
But,  notwithstanding  this  substitution  of  one  tribe  for 
the  firstborn  of  every  tribe,  the  firstborn  had  still  to  be 
presented  in  the  temple,  and  ransomed  from  the  service 
of  the  temple  by  the  payment  of  five  of  the  Sanctuary 
shekels — about  twelve  shillings  of  our  money.  And  the 
reason  of  this  enactment  seems  to  have  been  this :  that 
just  as  one  day  in  the  week  was  sanctified  in  order  to 
teach  that  every  day  is  due  and  hallowed  to  God,  and 
one  place  in  order  to  shew  that  there  is  no  place  where 
He  is  not,^  so  one  tribe  was  set  apart  for  his  service,  not 
because  the  Levites  were  holier  than  other  men,  but  to 
bear  witness  to  the  fact  that  all  men  are  bound  to  serve 
'  See  discourse  on  The  Covsccration  of  the  Firstlings^  Vol.  II. 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER.         33 

Hiin,  bDUtul  therefore  to  a  pure,  righteous,  and  godly 
life.  An  J,  as  the  Jews  found  the  lesson  hard  to  learn, 
God  helped  them  to  learn  it  by  ordaining  that,  though 
one  tribe  was  wholly  devoted  to  his  service,  and  had 
been  accepted  in  lieu  of  the  firstborn,  nevertheless  the 
firstborn  son  of  every  family  should  be  solemnly  pre- 
sented to  Him,  and  redeemed  from  the  service  of  his 
House  by  the  payment  of  five  shekels.  Every  separate 
family  was  thus  reminded  that  that  family,  through  all 
its  members,  was  holy  to  the  Lord  ;  that  Ihe  substitution 
of  the  Levites  did  not  exonerate  them  from  his  service, 
but  rather  bound  them  to  it  ;  and  that  they,  no  less 
than  the  Levites,  were  under  a  solemn  obligation  to 
walk  in  all  his  ordinances  and  commandments  blameless. 
The  particulars,  the  details,  of  Mary's  obedience  to 
this  statute  are  not  recorded,  just  as  a  thousand  other 
details  are  not  recorded,  lest  the  world  itself  should  not 
be  able  to  hold  the  Book.  But  we  arc  told  that  the 
parents  of  Jesus  "  brought  him  up  to  Jerusalem  to  present 
him  to  tlie  Lord,  as  it  is  written  in  the  law  of  the  Lord, 
Every  male  that  openeth  the  wonih  shall  be  called  holy  to 
the  Lord ;"  we  arc  told  that  "the}'  brought  in  the  child 
Jesus  to  do  for  him  after  the  custom  of  the  law."  The 
statute  is  quoted,  the  obedience  recorded  in  general 
terms.  Had  there  been  any  departure  from  "  the  custom 
of  the  law,"  no  doubt  this  also  would  have  been  re- 
corded. As  it  is,  we  are  left  to  conclude,  and  may 
4 


34    THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER. 

certainly  conclude,  that  all  was  done  in  due  order  ;  we 
may  be  sure  that  both  the  Babe  and  his  mother  were 
purified  from  their  ceremonial  uncleanness,  and  that  the 
child  Jesus  was  ransomed,  by  payment  of  the  stipulated 
shekels,  from  the  service  of  the  Hebrew  priesthood. 

Now  this  redemption  of  the  Redeemer,  and  this 
purification  of  the  pure  Son  of  God,  if  it  chance  to 
be  new  to  you,  may  be  a  little  perplexing.  You  may 
ask,  "Why  should  He  who  knew  no  sin  be  purged 
from  uncleanness  ?  and  why  should  the  great  High 
Priest  of  our  confession  be  ransomed  from  the  priestly 
service  ?  "  And  the  questions  are  worth  asking,  worth 
answering,  since  the  answer  to  them  may  help  to  bring 
home  to  us  both  the  essential  humanity  and  the  eternal 
priesthood  of  our  Lord. 

I.  Let  us  enquire  why  the  Holy  Child  was  purified. 

I.  In  the  eye  of  the  Hebrew  law,  the  mother  and  her 
child  were  regarded  as  having  one  life,  and  the  purifica- 
tion of  the  mother  extended  to  and  covered  the  child. 
Jesus,  therefore,  was  purified  in  the  purification  of  the 
Virgin  Mary.  Why  }  Simply  that  in  this,  as  in  all 
other  respects,  He  might  be  made  like  unto  his  brethren. 
True  that  in  Him  there  was  no  uncleanness,  no  sin.  But 
just  as  it  became  Him  to  be  circumcised,  although  He 
was  born  without  "  the  foreskin  of  the  heart  ;  "  just  as  it 
became  Him  to  submit  to  the  baptism  of  repentance, 
although   He  had  no  guilt  to  wash  away  ;    so  also  it 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER.         35 

became  Him  to  be  purificcl,  although  He  was  not  un- 
clean. Sinless,  He  appeared  "  in  the  likeness  of  sinful 
flesh."  Our  limitations  and  infirmities  were  in  his  man- 
hood, though  our  iniquities  were  not.  It  was  meet, 
therefore,  that  He  who  "  took  not  on  him  the  nature  of 
angels,"  but  that  "  flesh  and  blood,"  that  mortal  and 
peccable  nature  of  which  "  the  children  were  partakers," 
should  observe  those  ordinances  by  which  the  infirmities 
of  the  flesh  were  counteracted,  and  to  the  observance  of 
which  all  "  the  sons  of  the  law  "  were  bound.  "  The 
Sanctifier  and  the  sanctified  are  all  of  one  ;  wherefore 
He  is  not  ashamed  to  call  them  brethren  : "  but  how 
should  the  divine  Sanctifier  be  one  with  the  sanctified 
among  men  unless  He  assumed  their  very  nature,  and 
became  perfect  by  obeying  the  very  law  by  obedience 
to  which  they  attain  perfection  ?  How,  except  by  this 
identity  of  nature  and  of  obedience,  could  He  become 
so  one  with  them  as  that,  in  raising  Himself,  He  should 
raise  them,  and  glorify  their  humanity  in  glorifying  his 
own  ?  If  He  had  not  been  circumcised,  and  purified, 
and  baptized  with  them,  how  should  they  have  been 
"crucified  together  with  him  "  and  "  made  to  sit  together 
with  him  in  heavenly  places  "  ?  Every  link  which  bound 
and  drew  Him  down  to  them  was  also  a  link  which 
bound  them  to  Him,  and  by  which  He  will  in  due  time 
draw  them  up  to  Himself.  To  demonstrate  his  essential 
humanity,  to  multiply  the  points  of  contact  and  attach- 


35    THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER. 

ment  between  Him  and  the  race  He  came  to  save, — this 
was  why  He  had  to  submit  to  all  the  ordinances,  as  well, 
as  keep  all  the  commandments,  whether  of  the  former  or 
of  the  present  Dispensation. 

2.  Every  divine  ordinance  has  a  power  in  it  and  a 
gift.  If  duly  observed,  it  ministers  strength  and  grace, 
subdues,  or  helps  to  subdue,  the  evil  that  is  in  us,  to 
unfold  and  augment  that  which  is  good.  And  why 
should  we  not  believe  that  the  divine  ordinances  which 
found  their  fulfilment  in  Christ,  also  communicated  their 
power  to  Him  ?  We  admit  that  his  manhood  was  de- 
veloped and  trained,  as  ours  is,  by  a  gradual  process,  a 
process  of  growth  ;  that  He  learned  by  the  experience 
which  life  brought  Him,  and  was  exalted  by  the 
ennobling  ministry  of  death.  Why  not  also  admit 
and  believe  that  this  gradual  process  was  wrought  in 
the  normal  way ;  that  He  grew,  as  we  grow,  by  a  daily 
resistance  to  evil,  an  enlarging  obedience  to  the  Divine 
commandments,  a  faithful  observance  of  all  good  cus- 
toms, all  Divine  ordinances  ?  It  is  through  these 
channels  that  the  Divine  influence,  the  Divine  grace, 
reaches  us  ;  and  through  these  channels  it  reached 
Him.  The  circumcision  and  purification  of  Christ  were 
but  the  first  steps  of  an  ascending  series  which  led  Him 
on,  through  the  public  dedication  of  Himself  to' the 
service  of  God  when  He  was  twelve  years  old,  and  the 
observance  of  the  Hebrew  fasts  and  feasts  and  sabbaths, 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER.         yj 

to  the  baptism  of  John  and  the  final  Passover,  which,  at 
his  touch,  flowered  into  Christian  baptism  and  the  sacra- 
ment of  the  Supper.  All  these  ordinances  He  kept  in 
order  that  in  all  things  He  might  be  made  like  unto  his 
brethren,  and  fulfil  all  their  righteousness  :  and  doubtless 
He  received  from  each  of  them  its  special  gift  and 
power. 

And  He  became  like  unto  his  brethren  in  all  things 
in  order  to  quicken  in  us  the  hope  that,  in  all  things,  we 
may  become  like  Him  ;  to  give  us  the  assurance  that 
He  came  to  breathe  his  spirit  into  our  spirits  and  to 
conform  us  to  his  image. 

3.  It  lends  the  last  perfecting  touch  to  this  thought 
if  we  remember  that,  not  only  was  Jesus  purified,  but 
purified  together  with  his  mother.  For,  surely,  this 
union  of  the  immaculate  Child  with  the  maculate  woman 
brings  home  to  us  the  conviction,  that  the  Divine  docs 
not  shrink  from  fellowship  with  the  human,  that  the 
sinless  Lord  is  of  one  nature  with  sinful  men,  and  can 
be  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities.  To  see 
Jesus  and  Mary  joined  in  one  act  of  worship,  before  one 
and  the  same  altar,  is  such  a  revelation  of  the  Divine 
love  and  humility  as  should  be  a  perennial  fountain  of 
hope  in  our  hearts.  He  became  of  one  flesh  with  us, 
that  we  might  become  of  one  spirit  with  Him.  He  took 
our  unclcanness  on   Him,  that  we  might  become  par- 


38    THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER. 

II.  But  if  it  seem  strange  that  He  who  was  without 
sin  should  be  cleansed,  it  can  hardly  seem  less  strange 
that  tJie  Redeemer  should  be  redeemed,  that  the  only  true 
Priest  of  men  should  be  ransomed  from  the  priestly 
office  and  function.  Yet  a  certain  superficial  solution  of 
the  difficulty  is  obvious.  For  Jesus  Christ  came,  after 
the  flesh,  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  not  of  the  tribe  of  Levi, 
of  the  royal  tribe,  not  of  the  sacerdotal.  And  if  it 
behoved  Him  to  have  respect  to  the  laws  of  our  common 
humanity,  and,  in  particular,  to  the  laws  of  the  Hebrew 
nation,  it  also  became  Him  to  respect  the  laws  of  his 
tribe.  He  came  to  fulfil,  not  to  violate,  the  Divine  order. 
And  hence,  a  son  of  Judah  by  birth.  He  could  not 
become  a  Hebrew  priest,  but  must  be  ransomed,  as  the 
firstborn  of  his  tribe  were  ransomed,  from  the  service  of 
the  temple. 

This  is  one  answer  to  the  question,  "Why  was  the 
Priest  ransomed,  the  Redeemer  redeemed  ?  "  And  it  is 
a  conclusive  answer  so  far  as  it  goes.  But  it  does  not 
go  very  far  or  deep.  The  Writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  invites  us  to  take  a  larger  view,  and  furnishes 
us  with  a  more  conclusive  reply.  He  suggests  that, 
precisely  because  Christ  was  the  true  Priest  of  men.  He 
could  not  enter  the  Hebrew  priesthood.  The  true,  the 
universal  priest,  he  tells  us,  must  be  consecrated  by 
eternal  and  invisible,  not  by  visible  and  temporal, 
sanctions.     He  must  not  be  a  son  of  Levi,  or  a  priest 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER.         39 

of  Aaron's  order,  but  "  a  priest  for  ever  after  the  order 
of  IMclchizcdek."  "  Perfection,"  he  argues,  "  could  not 
come  by  the  Levitical  priesthood;"  and  therefore  "there 
ariseth  another  priest  who  is  made,  not  after  the  law  of 
a  carnal  commandment,  but  after  the  power  of  an  end- 
less life."  To  this  Great  High  Priest  the  sons  of  Aaron 
bore  witness,  but  an  imperfect  witness.  They  were  the 
shadows  which  He  cast  before  ;  and  the  priestly,  like 
other  shadows,  was  often  black,  distorted,  variable, 
always  imperfect.  Because  perfection  could  not  come 
by  the  Levites,  the  perfect  Priest  must  be  redeemed 
from  their  office  and  service. 

In  fine,  the  Epistle  signalizes  three  points  in  which 
the  Hebrew  priests  bore  witness  to  Christ,  but  in  which, 
while  He  resembled,  He  so  far  transcended  them  as  to 
prove  Himself  a  priest  of  another  order  and  higher 
functions,  (i)  They  were  "ordained  for  men;"  (2)  they 
were  "  ordained  by  God  ; "  (3)  they  were  "  ordained  to 
offer  gifts  and  sacrifices."  Let  us  glance  at  each  of  these 
points  for  a  moment,  and  so  come  to  a  close. 

I.  They  were  ordained  for  men.  The  Levites  were 
not  to  be,  like  the  heathen  priesthoods,  a  separate  caste, 
having  no  vital  bonds  of  union,  no  social  relations,  with 
their  brethren.  They  were  to  be  of  their  brethren,  that 
they  might  be  for  them.  A  certain  ceremonial  purity 
was  conferred  upon  them,  but  it  was  only  ceremonial, 
and  it  was  not  conferred  for  their  own  sakes.     In  their 


40    THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER. 

personal  life  and  character  they  were  no  better  than 
other  Jews.  They  had  to  offer  sacrifices  for  their  own 
sins  before  they  could  atone  for  the  sins  of  the  people. 
Their  holiness  was  a  purely  official  and  representative 
holiness :  they  were  set  apart  from  certain  common  and 
secular  uses  of  life,  invested  with  a  certain  sacredncss, 
in  order  that  the  whole  people  might  be  constantly 
reminded  of  their  holy  calling.  They  were  ordained  for 
men,  for  the  sake  of  their  neighbours.  The  Shekinah 
was  a  type  of  the  whole  priestly  system  ;  it  was  a  Light, 
but  a  Light  involved  in  a  cloud.  And  if  ever  the  Light 
was  to  break  through  and  absorb  the  cloud,  it  must  be 
at  the  coming  of  One  mightier  than  they;  One  in  whom 
their  legal  sanctity  should  be  replaced  by  an  unsullied 
personal  holiness  ;  One  who  should  not  only  remind 
men  that  they  ought  to  be  holy,  but  be  able  to  make 
them  holy,  to  communicate  to  them  the  virtue  and  the 
power  of  his  own  spotless  life. 

2.  They  were  ordained  by  God.  God  had  elected  the 
sons  of  Levi  to  minister  at  his  altar.  By  regular  suc- 
cession, by  right  of  birth,  or,  as  the  Epistle  phrases  it, 
"  by  the  law  of  a  carnal  commandment,"  they  were 
admitted  to  the  priesthood.  Most  of  them  were  without 
any  special  fitness  for  their  special  work  ;  many  of  them 
were,  ethically,  quite  unfit  for  it.  The  accident  of  birth 
decided  their  vocation  ;  and  hence  it  was,  I  suppose, 
that  throughout  the  long  Old  Testament   history,  we 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER.         41 

meet  with  very  few  priests  who  are  conspicuous  for 
commandin<j  intellect,  or  patriotism,  or  piety.  The  true 
Priest,  the  world's  Priest,  must  have  a  higher  call,  a 
diviner  ordination.  He  must  be  a  priest  "after  the 
order  of  Melchizedek,"  tleriving  his  office,  not  from 
birth,  or  any  accident  of  time,  but  from  personal  cha- 
racter, from  inward  bent  and  fitness.  His  priesthood 
is  not  to  be  hereditary  or  transmissible  :  it  is  to  spring 
from  an  immediate  Divine  call  and  inspiration  ;  it  is  to 
begin  and  end  with  Himself.  Christ  is  not  to  be  a 
priest  "after  the  law  of  a  carnal  commandment,"  but 
in  virtue  of  "  the  power  of  an  indissoluble,"  and 
therefore  a  perfect,  "  life."  His  sacrifice  is  really  to  take 
away  sin  ;  his  absolution  to  remove  guilt  and  to  give 
peace  ;  His  intercession  is  to  be  effectual  and  to  prevail. 
And  therefore  He  is  ransomed  from  the  service  of  a 
priesthood  which,  though  ordained  of  God,  could  "  make 
nothing  perfect,"  and  only  dealt  with  the  shadows  of 
good  things  to  come. 

3.  They  were  ordained  to  offer  sacrifice.  Evening  and 
morning,  at  weekly  sabbaths  and  annual  festivals,  the 
sons  of  Aaron  brought  gifts  and  offerings  before  the 
Lord.  "  In  these  sacrifices  lay  a  continually  recurring 
remembrance  of  sin."  They  spoke  of  a  guilt  they  could 
not  take  away  ;  for  they  could  only  "  sanctify  to  the 
purifying  of  the  flesh  :  "  "  they  could  not  make  him  who 
did  the  service  perfect  as  pertaining  to  the  conscience." 


42    THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER. 

Even  among  the  Jews  every  spiritually-minded  man 
knew  that  God  took  no  delight  in  sacrifice  and  burnt- 
offering  ;  that  Ids  sacrifices  were  a  contrite  heart,  an 
obedient  life,  a  will  conformed  to  the  Divine  Will.  The 
true  Priest,  therefore,  even  according  to  the  Hebrew 
conception  of  Him,  must  present  the  true  sacrifice  ;  He 
must  surrender  will  and  life  to  God.  As  "  every  high 
priest  is  ordained  to  offer  gifts  and  sacrifices,  ...  it  is 
of  necessity  that  this  man  should  have  somewhat  also 
to  offer" — that  "somewhat"  being  the  true  ideal  Sac- 
rifice. He  must  make  so  complete  a  surrender  of 
Himself  unto  God  as  to  cause  a  similar  surrender  in 
as  many  as  truly  believe  on  Him.  Hence,  "  when  the 
Christ  Cometh  into  the  world,  he  saith,  Sacrifice  and 
offering  thou  didst  not  desire  ;  burnt-offering  and  sin- 
offering  thou  hast  not  required.  Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy 
will ;  I  delight  to  do  thy  luill,  O  my  God  :  yea,  thy  lazu 
is  within  7ny  hearth 

This  is  the  very  essence  and  perfection  of  sacrifice. 
It  is  this  which  makes  his  one  offering  able  "to  purge 
our  consciences  from  dead  works,"  and  "  eternally  to 
perfect  them  that  are  sanctified."  Only  He  who  had 
the  law  in  his  heart,  only  He  whose  will  never  swerved 
from  the  will  of  God,  only  He  could  be  the  true  Priest 
of  men,  and  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world.  For  it  is 
in  this  immutable  union  of  the  human  will  with  the 
Divine  Will  that  the  at-one-mcnt  consists. 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  THE  REDEEMER.         43 

Here,  then,  we  reach  the  real  large  reason  for  the 
redemption  of  the  Redeemer  from  the  Leviticai  priest- 
hood. Christ  came  to  offer,  not  their  ineffectual  sacrifices, 
but  the  one  great  Sacrifice  which  alone  gave  any  value 
to  their  offerings,  and  by  which  alone  the  world  could 
be  reconciled  unto  God.  His  sanctions  were  not  their 
sanctions,  but  higher  and  diviner,  since  He  was  ordained 
of  God,  not  through  the  accident  of  birth,  but  by  an 
immediate  personal  call,  an  inherent  and  eternal  fitness. 
His  functions  were  not  their  functions,  but  higher  and 
diviner,  since  He  was  ordained  for  men,  not  by  a  legal 
sanctity  or  a  ceremonial  cleanness,  but  by  a  substantial 
and  unblemished  holiness. 

In  fine.  He  was  at  once  in  harmony,  and  in  contrast, 
with  their  whole  institute.  He  had  in  Himself  all  that 
the  Aaronic  priesthood  possessed,  and  infinitely  more. 
He  gathered  up  into  Himself,  not  only  their  limited 
vocation  and  service,  but  all  true  priesthoods  and  all 
true  sacrifices  the  world  over  and  time  through,  posses- 
sing all  and  transcending  all.  And,  hence,  He  is  the 
Priest,  the  great  High  Priest,  not  of  the  Hebrew  race 
alone,  nor  of  any  race,  but  of  all  tribes  and  kindreds 
and  tongues  ;  his  Sacrifice  takes  away,  not  my  sins  or 
your  sins  alone,  but  the  sin  of  the  whole  world. 


IV. 

GOD  IS  LOVE. 

"  The  Lord  hath  recalled  ihee  as  a  woman  forsaken  and  grieved 
in  spirit,  and  as  a  wife  of  youth  who  hath  been  despised,  saith  thy 
God.  For  a  small  moment  did  I  cast  thee  out,  but  with  great 
compassion  will  I  gather  thee.  In  a  sudden  flush  of  wrath  I  hid 
my  face  from  thee,  but  with  everlasting  kindness  will  I  have  com- 
passion on  thee,  saith  the  Lord  thy  Redeemer.'  For  it  is  now 
with  me  as  at  the  flood  of  Noah  ;  whereas  I  swore  that  the  flood 
of  Noah  should  no  more  sweep  over  the  earth,  so  I  swear  that 
I  will  not  be  wroth  with  thee,  nor  rebuke  thee.  For  though  the 
mountains  should  remove,  and  the  hills  should  quake,  my  loving- 
kindness  for  thee  shall  not  remove,  neither  shall  my  covenant  of 
peace  quake,  saith  the  Lord  that  hath  compassion  on  thee.  O 
thou  afflicted,  tossed  with  tempest,  not  comforted,  behold  I  will 
set  thy  stones  in  antimony, =^  and  lay  thy  foundation  with  sapphires  ; 
and  I  will  make  thy  battlements  of  rubies,  and  thy  gates  of  car- 
buncles, and  all  thy  boundaries  of  precious  stones.  And  all  thy 
children  shall  be  taught  of  the  Lord,  and  (great  shall  be  the  peace 
of  thy  children." — Isaiah  Uv.  6-13. 


None  of  those  who  came  before  the  Lord  Jesus  ventured 

'  Literally,  thy  Goel^  i.e.,  the  redeeming  Kinsman. 

'  "Antimony"  was  the  costly  black  mineral  powder  with  which 
the  Eastern  women  painted  their  eyelids  to  throw  up  the  lustre 
of  their  eyes.  The  dark  cement  in  which  the  gems  of  the  walls, 
gates,  battlements,  and  even  the  foundations  of  the  Cily  were  to 
be  set,  and  which  was  to  enhance  their  brilliance,  was  to  be 
composed  of  this  costly  pigment. 


QOD  IS  LOVE.  45 


to  define  God  as  love.  But  it  does  not  follow,  as  we 
sometimes  assume,  that  the  holy  men  who  were  moved 
by  the  Holy  Ghost  before  Christ  came  into  the  world 
did  not  know  and  teach  the  fatherly  and  redeeming 
love  of  God.  They  could  not  be  so  familiar  with  that 
love  as  we  are  ;  but  that  they  recognized  it,  and  insisted 
on  it  with  rare  force  and  pathos,  that  they  did  all  that 
mere  words  could  do  to  convince  and  persuade  men  of 
it,  no  candid  student  of  the  Old  Testament  will  deny, 
although  when  they  were  most  profoundly  moved  by  it 
we  can  still  detect  in  their  language  a  certain  accent  of 
almost  incredulous  surprise.  They  have  to  pause,  amid 
the  rush  ^nd  torrent  of  emotion,  to  assure  and  reassure 
themselves  that  they  are  not  going  beyond  the  word  of 
the  Lord.  But,  pause  as  often  as  they  will,  and  though 
they  may  seem  to  hesitate  as  if  in  doubt,  they  do  not 
really  doubt.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  sure  that,  like 
as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them 
that  fear  Him  ;  and  that,  far  as  the  east  is  from  the 
west,  so  far  hath  He  removed  their  transgressions  from 
them. 

Isaiah,  for  example,  as  he  utters  the  pathetic  phrases 
of  my  text,  can  hardly  believe  for  joy  and  wonder. 
But  it  is  only  joy  and  wonder  which  make  him  in- 
credulous. He  has  no  reason  for  doubt,  save  that  the 
Love  which  is  being  revealed  to  him  appears  too  mar- 
vellous to  be  true.     Again  and  again  he  is  compelled  to 


4&  GOD  IS  LO  VE. 


remind  himself  that  it  is  God  who  is  speaking  in  him 
and  through  him.  The  tender  phrases  which,  were  they 
not  so  tender,  might  run  on  with  even  flow,  are  again 
and  again  broken  with  such  words  as  "  saith  thy  God," 
or  "  saith  the  Lord  thy  Redeemer"  or  "  saith  the  Lord 
that  hath  compassion  on  thee."  It  is  as  though  he  found 
the  words  he  was  moved  to  speak  so  divinely  tender 
and  of  so  wide  a  compass,  so  far  transcending  all  bounds 
of  hope,  that,  if  not  incredible  to  him,  they  would  at 
least  be  incredible  to  those  who  listened  to  them  ;  as 
though  he  had  constantly  to  assure  himself,  and  them, 
that  there  was  warrant  for  them,  that  it  was  no  one  less 
than  God  Himself  from  whom  they  came. 

Do  you  wonder  that  Isaiah,  who  knew  God  so  well, 
found  it  hard  to  believe  in  a  love  so  tender  and  so  true, 
and  feared  that  his  hearers  would  find  it  quite  impossible 
to  believe  ? 

Ah,  but  consider  who,  and  what,  they  were  on  whom 
he  was  told  that  God  had  set  his  heart,  and  all  the 
treasures  of  his  love  and  compassion  !  They  were  sin- 
ners above  all  other  men.  God  had  lavished  on  them 
every  possible  means  of  grace,  insomuch  that  He  both 
could,  and  did,  appeal  to  them  whether  there  was  even 
one  single  thing  He  could  have  done  for  them  which 
He  had  not  done.  Yet,  despite  his  singular  and  bound- 
less grace,  they  had  sunk  to  the  level,  and  below  the 
level,  of  the  heathen  around  them.     They  had  forsaken 


GOD  IS  LOVE.  47 


the  God  who  had  rcilccmcd  and  cxallcd  them,  broken 
his  law,  abandoned  his  worship.  Sensual  and  corrupt, 
impure,  dishonest,  unjust,  their  very  prophets  prophesied 
lies,  and  even  the  hands  of  the  priests  were  full  of  blood. 
Was  it  likely  that  God  should  love  t/icin  ? 

Consider,  too,  how  stern  and  dreadful  was  the  burden 
which  Isaiah  had  been  commissioned  to  denounce  upon 
them,  lie  had  been  sent  to  utter  woe  on  woe,  to  foretell, 
as  the  inevitable  issue  of  their  sins,  that  their  goodly  land 
should  become  a  wilderness,  their  fair  cities  sink  in  flame 
to  blackened  ruins,  and  their  inhabitants  be  consumed 
by  pestilence,  war,  invasion.  And  God  had  been  as 
good  as  his  word.  Assyrian  and  Chaldean  armies  had 
swept  the  land  of  its  inhabitants;  their  cities  were  burned 
with  fire,  and  the  once  fertile  and  wealthy  land  turned 
into  a  desert.  All  who  were  left  of  the  people  were 
carried  away  captive,  and  left  to  weep  for  seventy  years 
over  their  unstrung  harps  as  they  sat  by  the  waters 
of  Babylon. 

It  was  to  these  sinful  miserable  captives  and  e.xiles 
that  the  Prophet  was  moved  to  proclaim  the  tender  and 
inalienable  love  of  God  !  Is  it  any  marvel  that  he  was 
amazed,  or  even  incredulous  ?  Could  God  really  love  the 
people  whom  He  had  smitten  with  stroke  upon  stroke, 
till  they  were  robbed  of  all  that  men  hold  dear  ?  Was 
the  very  anger  which  smote  them  only  one  of  the  forms 
of  that  love  ?     Was  it  possible  that  He  could  really  care 


48  GOD  IS  LOVE. 


for  men  so  foul  and  base,  go  on  loving  them  and  caring 
for  them  in  the  teeth  of  all  their  offences,  and  renew  and 
redouble  his  endeavours  to  redeem  them  the  more  deeply 
they  sank  into  bondage  to  their  lusts  ?  Was  it  con- 
ceivable that  He  should  yearn  for  creatures  such  as  these 
as  a  mother  yearns  for  her  children,  as  a  lover  longs  for 
his  bride  ? 

It  was  incredible,  my  brethren  ;  it  is  incredible :  and, 
nevertheless,  it  is  utterly  and  altogether  true. 

Isaiah  is  filled,  and  might  well  be  filled,  with  amaze- 
ment as  he  overhears  the  soliloquy  of  Jehovah.  As  he 
listens  to  the  tender  divine  phrases  in  which  the  holy 
Inhabitant  of  Eternity  utters  all  his  compassion  and  all 
his  desire,  the  Prophet  believes  not  for  joy  and  wonder. 
And  yet  he  does  believe.  He  doubts  neither  that  it  is 
God  who  speaks,  nor  that  He  means  what  He  says.  He 
keeps  assuring  himself,  and  us,  that  it  is  the  Lord,  and 
that  this  Lord  is  our  Redeemer,  who  has  compassion 
upon  us. 

And,  indeed,  the  words  authenticate  themselves.  None 
but  God  could  have  spoken  them.  No  man  would  have 
dared  to  conceive  of  God — no  man,  untaught  of  Heaven, 
ever  has  conceived  of  God,  as  yearning  with  love  for  the 
human  race  ;  and  still  less  could  any  man  have  invented 
the  tender,  melting,  beseeching  phrases  in  which  Isaiah 
has  clothed  that  conception.  TJic  words  are  so  ]innian 
that  they  must  be  divine.      So  far  from   being  able  to 


GOD  IS  LOVR.  49 


invent  thcni,  men  can  very  liartlly  believe  them — Isai  ih 
himself,  as  we  have  just  seen,  could  hardly  believe  them. 
And  even  wc,  who  know,  or  ought  to  know,  so  much 
more  of  the  love  of  God  than  he  did,  find  it  almost  im- 
possible to  believe  that  God  should  have  uttered  thc;n. 
Even  ivc  should  not  have  dared  to  put  these  words  into 
his  mouth.  Wc  can  hardly  believe  that  He  means  half 
which  the  words  convey. 

For  inark  what  the  words  do  convey.  Gotl  is  speak- 
ing to  men  who  had  persistently  sinned  against  all  the 
influences  of  his  love  and  grace,  to  men  who  were  being 
consumed  by  the  inevitable  results  of  their  transgressions. 
And  He  tells  these  poor  miserable  creatures  that  they  are 
as  dear  to  Him  as  the  bride  to  her  husband  ;  thaf,  though 
their  offences  against  Him  have  been  so  many  and  so 
deep,  He  cannot  tear  his  love  for  them  out  of  his  heart. 
Nay,  as  if  this  were  not  enough,  He  goes  on  to  say  that, 
though  the  blame  is  none  of  his.  He  is  willing  to  take 
all  the  blame  of  their  offences  on  Himself.  Instead  of 
reproaching  them  for  their  sins  against  his  love,  He  com- 
pares them  to  a  wife  forsaken  and  grieved  in  spirit,  to  a 
young  and  tender  bride  whose  husband  has  despised  and 
disgraced  her,  refusing  to  live  with  her  and  sending  her 
away  from  his  tent.  It  is  //«•  who  has  abandonetl  her, 
not  she  who  has  abandoned  Him.  It  is  He  who  has 
been  hard  and  stern,  not  she  who  has  been  wilful  and 
gone  astray.  But  He  never  meant  to  be  hard  and  stern. 
5 


50  GOD  IS  LOVE. 


It  was  only  for  a  brief  moment  that  He  left  her,  and  in 
a  momentary  flush  of  anger.  If  she  will  return  to  Him, 
and  give  Him  another  chance,  He  will  welcome  her  with 
"  great  mercies  "  and  comfort  her  with  an  "  everlasting 
kindness."  How  shall  He  persuade  her  to  return,  to 
trust  in  Him?  how  convince  her  that  He  will  be  angry 
with  her  no  more  ?  He  calls  heaven  and  earth  to  witness 
to  his  truth,  his  fidelity,  his  deathless  and  unchanging 
love.  He  cannot  appeal  to  his  covenant  with  her,  with 
Israel.  She  may  think  that  tJiat  has  been  broken  both 
by  Him  and  by  herself  But  there  was  one  of  his  cove- 
nants that  had  never  been  broken,  an  unconditional 
covenant,  the  covenant  with  Noah,  which  did  not  depend 
on  men  and  their  obedience,  which  depended  only  on 
God  and  on  his  faithfulness  to  his  word.  Henceforth  his 
covenant  with  her  shall  be  as  "  the  waters  of  Noah  ; "  He 
will  no  more  fail  in  his  love  to  her  than  He  will  suffer 
the  earth  to  be  wasted  by  another  flood.  He  will  never 
forsake  her,  even  though  she  should  forsake  Him  ;  never 
be  wroth  with  her,  nor  rebuke  her,  even  though  she 
should  still  be  wilful  and  provoke  Him  to  anger.  Nay, 
more  ;  as  if  even  this  great  promise  were  not  enough.  He 
casts  about  for  another  and  a  still  more  reassuring  figure, 
and  goes  on  to  say  :  the  mountains  were  planted  and  the 
hills  stood  firm  before  the  deluge  swept  over  the  earth  ; 
even  the  waters  of  Noah  could  not  wash  tJiem  away,  nor 
so  much  as  make  them  quake.    And  his  love  shall  hence- 


GOD  IS  LOVE. 


forth  be  firm  and  unchanjjingas  the  mountains  and  hills  ; 
nay,  more  firm  and  unchanging.  The  mountains  may 
remove,  and  the  hills  may  quake  ;  but  his  lovingkindncss 
shall  never  remove,  his  covenant  of  peace  shall  never 
quake. 

Even  all  this,  wonderful  and  incredible  as  it  is,  is  not 
enough.  There  is  the  sigh  of  an  infinite  compassion  and 
truth  in  the  exclamation,  "  O  thou  afflicted,  tossed  with 
tempest,  not  comforted  I  "  There  is  an  unbounded  and 
divine  generosity  in  the  promise  to  the  bride,  to  the 
zvoman,  that,  if  she  will  only  come  back  to  Him,  her  very 
palace  shall  be  built  of  rare  gems  ;  and  in  the  promise  to 
the  mother,  than  which  no  promise  could  be  more  dear 
to  a  mother's  heart,  "  All  thy  children  shall  be  taught  of 
the  Lord,  and  great  shall  be  the  peace  of  thy  children." 

Is  that  a  fable  of  man's  invention  ?  Can  it  be  ?  Would 
any  man  have  dared  to  give  it  as  a  statement  of  the  facts, 
or  possible  facts,  of  human  life  ?  Is  it  not  utterly  in- 
credible that  any  man  should  have  conceived  of  God  as 
pleading  with  the  most  sinful  outcasts  of  the  race  like  an 
impassioned  lover  pleading  with  his  bride  ?  as  taking  all 
the  blame  of  our  faithlessness,  all  the  burden  of  our  sins, 
on  Himself?  as  seeking  to  win  us  back  by  vows  and 
oaths  and  promises  in  which  it  is  impossible  for  Him  to 
lie?  as  pledging  Himself  to  be  true  to  us  even  though 
we  should  be  untrue  to  Him,  and  to  follow  us  with  an 
everlasting  kindness,  wander  how  and   where  we  will? 


52  GOD  IS  LOVE. 


Is  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  so  impossible  for  any  one  of 
us  to  have  conceived  of  God  thus  that  we  can  hardly 
persuade  ourselves  that  such  a  conception  of  Him  can  be 
true  now  that  we  have  it  on  his  own  authority  and  as 
from  his  own  lips  ?  We  find  it  so  difficult  to  believe  in 
a  Love  like  this  that  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  if 
many  of  you,  while  I  have  been  trying  to  give  you  the 
sense  of  Isaiah's  words,  have  been  looking  at  your  Bibles 
again  and  again  to  see  if  I  were  not  straining  his  words, 
and  making  them  mean  more  than  they  could  possibly 
have  meant  ;  or  if  you  have  discovered,  with  a  certain 
awe  and  amazement,  that  they  mean  and  imply  far  more 
than  I  have  been  able  to  bring  out. 

I  should  not  be  surprised,  because  there  is  much  room, 
much  reason  even,  for  your  doubts — reason  in  ourselves, 
in  the  world  around  us,  and  even  in  the  teaching  of  the 
Church.  We  are  not  worthy  of  such  a  love  as  this,  and 
know  that  we  are  not  worthy  of  it.  We  have  forsaken 
God  ;  why,  then,  should  not  He  forsake  us  ?  We  have 
sinned  against  his  law,  though  we  admit  that  law  to  be 
holy,  just,  and  good,  and  obedience  to  it  the  only  way  of 
life  and  peace.  Our  own  hearts  condemn  us  ;  and  if  our 
hearts  condemn  us,  why  should  not  He  who  is  greater 
than  our  hearts  and  knoweth  all  things  ? 

Nay,  He  docs  condemn  us.  Our  life  is  darkened  by 
the  consequences  of  our  transgressions.  The  world 
around  us  is  full  of  miseries  bred  by  sin.     The  laws  by 


GOD  IS  LOVE.  53 


which  God  governs  men  are  hard  and  stern.  They 
make  no  allowance  for  our  errors,  our  infirmities,  our 
temptations,  or  even  for  our  honest  mistakes.  However 
innocently  we  offend,  we  have  to  take  our  punishment. 
However  deep  and  sincere  our  contrition,  no  repentance 
will  avert  that  punishment,  or  melt  the  links  which  bind 
evil  consequences  to  evil  deeds. 

And  if,  shamed  by  the  sense  of  sin,  or  stung  by  the 
misery  of  the  world,  we  turn  for  comfort  to  the  Church, 
what  comfort  has  the  Church  to  offer  us  ?  Theology 
has  been,  the  popular  theology  still  is,  as  hard  and  stern 
as  Nature  herself,  and  speaks  to  us  of  a  God  who  is 
angry  every  day  ;  who  could  only  be  placated  by  an 
agony  and  sacrifice  beyond  the  reach  of  thought,  and 
only  be  very  imperfectly  placated  even  by  that,  since 
He  turns  the  nations  into  hell,  and  saves  only  an  elect 
remnant,  into  whose  ranks  we  have  no  power  to  enter. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  we  who  have  long  been 
steeped  in  such  a  theology  as  this  find  it  hard  to  believe 
in  the  fatherly  and  redeeming  love  of  God  for  sinful 
men,  even  when  He  Himself  sets  Himself  to  convince 
and  persuade  us  of  that  love  }  Our  hearts,  which  were 
made  by  Him,  condemn  us.  The  laws  by  which  He 
rules  our  life  condemn  and  punish  us.  The  Church 
condemns  us,  or  the  vast  majority  of  us,  to  an  endless 
torment  and  death  ?  What  hope  is  left  us  ?  to  whom 
can  we  turn  .-* 


54  GOD  IS  LOVE. 


Ah,  my  brethren,  let  us  turn,  in  simple  childlike  faith 
to  God,  the  Lord  of  the  Church  and  the  Father  of  us  all,' 
and  listen  to  the  voice  which  speaks  from  heaven.  We 
are  not  so  wise  as  He  is  ;  we  confess  we  know  but  little 
whether  of  Nature  or  of  human  life,  and  cannot  trust  our 
interpretation  of  what  they  teach.  Even  theologians 
are  not  so  wise  as  God,  and  do  not  claim  to  be  as  wise, 
confident  as  they  are  in  their  reading  of  his  will.  Let 
us  listen  to  Hivi  rather  than  to  them,  or  to  ourselves. 

God  says  He  is  our  Father.  And  a  father  does  not 
abandon  his  children  because  they  are  weak  and  way- 
ward, and  disobey  his  will  to  their  own  hurt.  He, 
rather,  expects  them  to  be  weak  and  wayward  while 
they  are  children,  and  sets  himself  by  counsel  and 
discipline,  by  patient  forgiveness,  by  unfailing  tender- 
ness, to  correct  their  errors,  to  recover  them  to  obedi- 
ence, to  train  them  for  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of 
maturer  life.  God  says  that  his  love  for  us  is  more 
true  and  tender,  more  patient,  more  all-forgiving  and 
all-enduring  than  that  of  a  mother  ;  and  that  even  if  a 
mother  should  so  far  forget  her  nature  as  to  pluck  her 
babe  from  her  bosom.  He  can  never  pluck  us  from  his 
heart.  God  says — you  have  heard  Him  saying  it  this 
morning — that  his  love  for  us,  even  when  we  are  at  our 
worst,  is  a  passion  more  ardent  than  that  of  a  lover  for 
his  bride,  more  stcdfast  than  that  of  a  husband  for  the 
wife  of  his  youth.     He  takes  the  burden  and  the  blame 


GOD  IS  LOVE. 


of  our  sins  on  Himself,  He  makes  excuse  for  us  when 
we  can  make  none  for  ourselves.  He  assures  us  that 
He  suffers  more  than  we  do  in  all  our  miseries  and 
afflictions.  He  confesses  that  for  a  moment  He  has 
been  angry  with  us,  that  in  a  sudden  access  of  wrath  He 
has  hidden  his  face  from  us.  He  will  not  even  remind 
us  that  it  was  our  sins  against  his  love  which  made 
Him  angry,  or  that  his  very  anger  was  intended  to  make 
us  sorry  for  our  sins,  and  to  set  us  longing  for  the 
comfort  of  his  love.  Instead  of  reproaching  us,  He 
sighs  over  us  with  an  infinite  compassion,  and  movingly 
beseeches  us  to  return  to  Him.  He  pledges  Himself, 
with  vow  on  vow,  promise  on  promise,  to  receive  us  with 
great  mercy,  to  follow  us  with  an  everlasting  kindness, 
to  bless  us  with  a  love  more  stedfast  and  enduring  than 
tiie  mountains  which  not  even  the  Flood  could  shake,  a 
love  which  will  not  change  with  our  changes,  but  ba 
true  even  though  we  shonld  prove  untrue. 

Do  you  hesitate  to  believe  in  such  a  love  as  this  } 
Do  you  still  think  there  must  be  a  mistake  somewhere, 
because  you  can  see  no  reason  for  a  love  like  this,  no 
probability  of  it  ?  Is  it  stiM  incredible  that  the  love  of 
God  for  you  should  be  deep  and  pure,  ardent  and 
stedfast,  as  that  of  a  father  for  his  child,  a  mother  for 
her  babe,  a  lover  for  his  bride,  a  husband  for  his  wife  } 
Tell  me,  then,  whence  did  these  pure  flames  of  human 
love  spring  ?     Did  they  not  come  from  God  .••     Was  it 


56  GOD  IS  LOVE. 


not  He  who  made  man  and  woman,  father  and  mother, 
lover  and  husband,  and  made  them  what  they  are  ? 
And  must  not  the  Fountain  from  which  all  love  springs 
be  infinitely  purer  and  deeper  than  any  of  the  streams 
which  flow  from  it  ?  Is  it  possible  that  the  love  of  man 
or  woman,  even  in  its  most  heroic  or  most  pathetic 
forms,  can  be  truer,  warmer,  tenderer,  of  a  more  en- 
during and  withstanding  fidelity  than  that  of  God  ? 
Are  they  not,  must  they  not  be,  only  faint,  though  fair, 
reflections  of  the  Love  from  which  they  sprang  ?  or  will 
you  argue  that  sunshine  is  hotter  than  the  sun  ? 

Do  you  still  hesitate  ?  Do  you  ask  for  some  instance 
in  which  God  openly  shewed,  or  distinctly  proclaimed, 
his  love  for  men  as  faulty  and  sinful  as  yourselves,  whose 
life  was  as  dark  as  yours,  whose  nature  as  weak  and 
unstable  ?  Consider,  then,  who  they  were  to  whom  this 
message  of  love  was  first  sent  ?  Are  you  more  faulty 
or  more  guilty  than  the  Jews  who  had  lost  home  and 
temple,  liberty  and  native  land,  for  and  by  their  sins  ? 
Are  your  lives  darker  and  more  burdened  than  were 
those  of  the  exiles  who  wept  by  the  waters  of  Babylon 
as  they  bethought  them  of  all  they  had  lost  ?  Remem- 
ber, then,  how  God  pleaded  with  them — not  simply  by 
assuring  them  of  forgiveness,  redemption,  love,  but  piling 
sentence  on  sentence,  metaphor  on  metaphor,  appeal  on 
appeal,  promise  on  promise,  if  by  any  means  He  might 
win  them  back  to  Himself 


GOD  IS  LOVE.  57 


And,  finally,  consider  this.  "  Men  do  not  get  what 
they  want  because  they  do  not  want  the  best,"  or  do  not 
want  it  first  and  most.  Ilcncc  they  mistake  and  resent 
the  Love  which  presses  the  best  upon  them,  and  will 
not  let  them  rest  until  they  accept  it.  They  want  ease, 
enjoyment,  gain,  success  ;  they  do  not  want,  or  do  not 
want  first  and  most  of  all,  a  clean  heart,  a  right  spirit,  a 
loving  and  obedient  life.  It  is  long  before  we  any  of  us 
learn  what  the  best  things  really  arc,  and  still  longer 
before  we  learn  to  desire  them  above  all  else.  And 
when,  in  his  love,  God  scourges  us  from  our  lazy  para- 
dise, and  drives  us,  up  the  mountain  and  through  the 
cloud,  to  the  heaven  of  being  righteous  even  as  He  is 
righteous  and  perfect  even  as  He  is  perfect,  we  mistake 
for  anger  the  love  which  can  be  content  with  nothing 
short  of  the  best  for  us,  and  find  in  the  toil  and  suffering 
which  are  a  discipline  of  perfection  only  his  displeasure 
or  our  calamity. 

If  there  is  to  be  any  comfort,  any  hope,  any  peace  in 
our  life,  if  we  are  to  be  sustained  under  the  sorrows  and 
changes  of  time,  if  we  arc  to  meet  death  without  fear 
because  we  look  for  a  happy  immortality,  we  tnust  set 
our  hearts  on  the  best  things,  and  be  sure  both  that  God 
so  loves  us  that  He  will  give  us  the  best,  and  that  He 
is  preparing  us  to  take  and  enjoy  the  best  by  all  the 
discipline,  all  the  toil  and  sorrow  and  anguish,  through 
which  wc  are  passing.     And,  therefore,  I  beseech  you 


5'S  GOD  IS  LOVE. 


to  believe  in  his  love,  in  his  \ove  for yoii,  to  believe  that 
it  is  purer,  deeper,  more  forgiving  and  more  enduring, 
than  the  warmest  human  love  in  its  most  faithful  and 
tenderest  forms.  Mark  the  manner,  as  well  as  the  sub- 
stance, of  my  text.  Remember  that  God  is  not  content 
to  give  you  the  plain  avowal  or  assurance  of  a  love 
on  which  you  may  always  count  ;  but  that  He  dwells 
on  it,  lingers  over  it,  throws  it  into  many  forms,  and 
these  forms  so  tender,  so  touching  and  appealing,  that 
even  the  hardest  heart  cannot  listen  to  them  unmoved. 
Do  you  say,  "  God  is  too  great  and  high  to  care  much 
for  me  "  ?  Hear  what  "  thy  God  "  saith  :  "  The  Lord 
hath  recalled  thee  as  a  woman  forsaken  and  grieved  in 
spirit,  and  as  a  wife  of  youth  who  has  been  despised." 
Do  you  object,  "  But  I  have  sinned  against  Him  ;  I 
have  broken  his  laws,  resisted  his  grace,  turned  away 
from  his  love  and  service  "  ?  Hear  what  "  the  Lord  thy 
Redeemer  "  saith,  and  how  He  interprets  your  relations 
to  Himself,  taking  blame  on  Himself  rather  than  casting 
blame  on  you  :  "  For  a  small  moment  did  I  cast  thee 
out,  but  with  great  compassion  will  I  gather  thee  ;  in  a 
sudden  flush  of  wrath  I  hid  my  face  from  thee,  but  with 
everlasting  kindness  will  I  have  compassion  on  thee." 
Do  you  object  again,  "  But  I  am  still  full  of  faults,  still 
compassed  with  infirmity.  I  am  only  too  likely  to 
repeat  in  the  future  the  sins  which  I  lament  in  the  past. 
And  if  I  do,  must  I  not  fall  away  from  his  love"?    Hear 


GOD  IS  LOVE.  59 


what  saith  "  the  Lord  who  hath  compassion  on  thcc  :" 
"For  it  is  now  with  mc  as  at  the  flood  of  Noah:  whereas 
I  swore  that  the  flood  of  Noah  should  no  more  sweep 
over  the  earth,  so  I  swear  that  I  will  not  be  wroth  with 
thcc  nor  rebuke  thee.  For  though  the  mountains  should 
remove  and  the  hills  should  quake,  my  lovingkindness 
for  thee  shall  not  remove,  neither  shall  my  covenant  of 
peace  quake." 

Is  not  this  the  very  and  authentic  voice  of  Love? 
Could  any  man  have  put  these  heart-melting  words  into 
the  mouth  of  God  ?  Must  not  He  who  is  love  have  put 
them  into  the  mouth  of  his  servant  ?  Listen,  then,  to 
Him.  Believe  and  respond  to  the  love  God  hath  toward 
you.  Seek  first  his  kingdom  and  righteousness.  Recog- 
nize in  all  the  changes  and  sorrows  of  time  the  discipline 
by  which,  in  his  love,  He  is  making  you  perfect.  And 
having  thus  made  sure  of  the  best  things,  all  else  that 
you  need  shall  be  added  unto  you,  all  really  "  precious" 
things  shall  be  yours,  whether  in  heaven  or  on  earth. 


PRAYER   AND  PROMISE. 

"  For  everyone  that  asketh  rcceiveth  ;  and  he  that  seeketh 
findeth  ;  and  to  him  that  knocketh  it  shall  be  opened." — 
Matthew  vii.  8. 

When  our  Lord  speaks  of  prayer,  He  speaks  with 
emphasis,  as  One  who  knows  how  men  doubt  the  worth 
of  prayer,  and  would  fain  banish  all  doubt.  If  He  says, 
"  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you,"  He  instantly  repeats 
the  promise  in  a  slightly  heightened  form,  and  adds, 
"  Seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  "  nay  instantly  re-repeats  the 
promise  in  another  and  still  more  strenuous  form, 
"  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you."  Whether 
by  these  repetitions  He  intended  to  mark  a  growing 
earnestness  in  the  soul  that  is  drawn  into  a  sincere  com- 
munion with  the  Giver  of  all  good,  so  that  from  simple 
asking  it  kindles  into  strenuous  seeking,  and  from 
seeking  into  an  importunity  which  will  not  be  silenced 
or  denied  ;  or  whether,  with  the  natural  and  .unstudied 
rhetoric  of  a  born  teacher  of  men,  He  instinctively 
employed  stronger  phrases   as    He  repeated  the  same 


PR  A  YER  AND  PROMISE.  6i 


thought,  scholars  have  not  determined,  and  \vc  need  not 
discuss.  It  is  enough  to  mark  that,  as  if  to  put  an  end 
to  the  strife  of  doubt  within  our  souls,  He  thrice  assures 
us  in  a  single  sentence  that,  if  we  seek  "good  gifts  "  of 
our  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  we  cannot  ask  in  vain. 

Nay,  more  ;  He  is  not  content  with  even  three  repeti- 
tions of  his  promise.  In  the  very  next  sentence,  as  if  to 
close  every  loophole  for  doubt  and  fear,  as  if  to  compel 
our  wavering  hearts  to  settle  into  an  unwavering  trust, 
He  repeats  the  promise  three  times  more,  in  almost,  but 
happily  not  in  quite,  the  self-same,  words.  For  now, 
while  using  the  same  words  in  the  main.  He  infuses  a 
tone  of  universality  into  his  promise  which  is  full  of 
comfort  for  us  when  once  we  comprehend  it.  Im- 
mediately after  his  direct  promise  to  us,  "  Ask,  and  it 
shall  be  given  you  ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock,  and 
it  shall  be  opened  unto  you,"  He  assigns  as  a  reason 
why  we  should  accept  and  rely  on  his  promise  the  fact  : 
"  For  everyone  that  asketh'rccciveth ;  and  he  {i.e.,  "every- 
one "  again)  that  seekcth  findeth  ;  and  to  him  (again  to 
"everyone")  that  knockcth  it  shall  be  opened." 

The  only  new  point  in  this  second  threefold  repetition 
of  the  promise  is  its  universality,  that  its  scope  is  en- 
larged from  "us"  till  it  embraces  "everyone."  And  so 
perverse  are  we,  so  much  the  enemies  of  our  own  peace, 
that  the  very  reason  which  our  Lord  adduces  for  the 
confirmation  of  our  faith   m.i\-,  at  first,  onlv  relax   its 


62  PRA  YER  AND  PROMISE. 

hold.  In  our  narrow  and  selfish  moods  we  are  apt  to 
assume  that  what  is  ours  alone  is  most  of  all  ours  ;  that 
that  is  not  strictly  our  own  over  which  our  neighbours 
have  any  right  or  claim,  and,  much  more,  if  not  only 
some,  but  all,  men  share  it  with  us.  And  hence  a 
promise  made  to  everybody  may  seem  all  the  less, 
instead  of  all  the  more,  made  to  us.  But  no  sooner 
do  we  reflect  than  we  find  that  all  the  best  things,  the 
things  which  are  most  precious  and  most  indispensable, 
are  precisely  those  which  are  open  and  common  to  all 
men.  The  air  we  breathe,  the  water  of  which  we  drink, 
the  bread  we  eat,  the  beauty  of  the  earth,  the  pomp  and 
glory  of  the  skies,  the  thoughts  by  which  we  are  most 
deeply  and  beneficially  stirred,  the  kinships  and  sym- 
pathies of  the  home,  of  friendship,  of  love,  are  not  and 
cannot  be  ours  exclusively.  These,  and  the  like,  good 
gifts  are  common  to  many,  if  not  to  all,  of  our  neigh- 
bours. Why  even  to  eat  a  meal  alone  is  not  to  enjoy 
a  meal  ;  you  must  share  it  with  others  if  you  are  to 
eiijoy  it.  You  cannot  look  on  any  scene  of  natural 
beauty  without  glancing  round  for  some  one  to  partake 
it  with  you,  and,  by  partaking,  to  make  it  doubly 
beautiful,  and  doubly  yours.  No  generous  man,  no 
man  worth  calling  a  man,  can  fully  enjoy  his  own 
happiness  while  he  feels  that  others  are  miserable,  or 
his  own  liberty  so  long  as  he  knows  that  his  neighbours 
are  enslaved.      No    man    can    be    really   good    without 


PJ^A  YER  AND  PROMISE.  63 


sti-ivin<j  to  make  others  good  ;  in  proportion  as  his  faith 
in  God  and  goodness  is  precious  to  him,  he  longs  that 
other  men  should  be  animated  by  like  precious  faith. 

The  best  things  are  the  most  common,  the  most 
universal ;  and  the  best  men  arc  those  who  arc  most  bent 
on  sharing  with  others  all  that  they  possess  and  enjoy. 

In  proportion  as  we  are  men,  then,  and  good  men, 
the  universality  of  this  promise  will  make  it  dear  to  us. 
We  shall  love  and  trust  our  Lord's  assurance  that  our 
prayers  are  answered  all  the  more  because  everyone  that 
asketh  receiveth,  and  everyone  that  seeks  the  true  wealth 
finds  it  ;  because  to  everyone  that  knocks  at  the  gate  of 
heaven,  it  is  opened. 

Wc  may  reach  the  same  conclusion  by  a  lower  and  a 
more  selfish  road.  You  who  doubt  whether  God  listens 
to  )'our  pra)-crs,  whether  He  will  give  you  the  good  gifts 
you  ask  of^  Ilim,  tell  me  how  God  could  meet  your 
doubts,  how  Me  could  induce  you  to  put  your  trust  in 
Ilim. 

By  a  promise  made  to  a  few  elect  souls  ^  You  know 
very  well  that,  if  such  a  promise  were  made,  it  would 
be  with  you  as  it  is  with  many  who  think  that  such 
a  promise  /las  been  made,  that  the  mcrc)'  of  God  is 
confined  within  such  narrow  bounds.  You  would  be 
always  suspecting  that  you  were  not  of  the  few,  fearing 
that  you  were  not  of  the  elect,  that  you  were  excluded 
from  a  mercy  so  narrow  and  capricious  as  this. 


64  PRA  YER  AND  PROMISE. 

Would  even  a  written  promise,  flung  down  from 
Heaven,  ivith  your  yiaine  inserted  in  it,  assure  your  faith  ? 
You  know  very  well  that  it  would  not.  You  would  fear 
lest  it  was  meant  for  some  other  person  of  the  same 
name,  or  lest  it  should  have  been  made  when  you  were 
comparatively  innocent,  and  had  not  contracted  the  evil 
taints  by  which  you  are  polluted  now  ;  or,  comparing 
yourselves  with  many  to  whom  no  such  promise  was 
sent,  and  confessing  that  they  were  far  more  worthy 
of  it  than  you,  you  would  suspect  the  origin,  or  the 
meaning  of  the  promise,  and  persuade  yourselves  either 
that  it  did  not  come  from  above,  or  that  it  was  con- 
tingent on  conditions  which  you  had  failed  to  fulfil. 

But  if  the  promise  is  made  to  ^^ everyone"  if  it  simply 

embodies  a  lazv  of  the  spiritual  world,  what  ingenious 

evasion  of  it  can  even  the  heart  most  prone  to  doubt 

devise  ?      You   may  not  be  worthy  of  any  unique  or 

special  gift ;  you  may  not  be  able  to  reckon  yourselves 

among  the  elite,  or  elect,  of  the  earth  :  but  you  cannot 

argue  yourselves  beyond  the  scope  of  that  which  is  given 

to  every  man.     You  cannot  suspect  that  God  will  repeal 

m 
a  law  of  his  kingdom  simply  to  exclude  you  from  that 

kingdom.     You  cannot  fear  that  what    He   grants   to 

every  man,  He  will  withhold  from  you. 

Behold  the  comfort,  then,  and  accept  the  assurance,  of 

this  great  promise:   ^'■Everyone   that  askcth  receiveth  ; 

everyone  that  seeketh  findeth  ;  to  everyone  that  knockcth 


PR  A  YER  AND  PROMISE.  65 

it  shall  be  opened."  It  is  the  best  kind  of  promise  ;  for 
it  is  made  to  us  only  because  it  is  true  of  all  men.  It 
is  the  best  kind  of  promise  because,  since  it  is  made  to 
all,  we  cannot  possibly  be  excluded  from  it. 

But  here  you  may  say,  "  It  is  a  great  promise  and  full 
of  comfort  ;  at  least  it  ivould  be  if  it  were  true,  if  the 
facts  of  life  verified  it.  But  is  it  true  }  is  it  not  dis- 
proved, rather  than  verified,  by  the  facts  of  daily  expe- 
rience ? "  And  by  this  question  you  touch  the  very 
heart  of  the  matter.  It  is  a  question  worth  discussing — 
a  question  which  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  discuss  with 
you,  because  it  comes  close  home  to  our  experience, 
because  it  is  vital  to  our  faith. 

But,  in  discussing  it,  I  shall  and  must  assume,  that 
you  are  no  longer  children,  but  men  ;  that  you  have 
learned  to  discriminate  values,  and  to  prefer  the  best 
things  over  things  of  inferior  worth  ;  that  you  do  not 
want  to  impose  your  will  on  God,  but  to  learn  what 
his  will  for  you  is,  because  you  believe  his  will  to  be 
wiser,  purer,  kinder  than  your  own.  I  shall  assume  that, 
even  if  you  could  do  it,  you  would  not  bring  rain  on  the 
earth  simply  because  you  wished  for  rain,  or  fair  weatiier 
because  you  wished  for  fair  weather,  lest,  in  indulging 
your  wishes,  you  should  injure  your  interests,  or  in  pro- 
moting your  own  interests  should  injure  the  interests  of 
others.  I  shall  and  must  assume,  in  short,  that  you  are 
wise  enough  to  lay  the  main  stress  of  your  question  on 
6 


66  PRA  YER  AND  PROMISE. 

the  larger  and  more  spiritual  aspects  of  the  Promise  ;  that 
you  no  longer  want  to  know  whether  God  will  give  you 
whatever  you  choose  to  ask  for,  but  whether  He  will 
give  you  the  things  which  make  for  well-being,  the  best 
things,  the  most  valuable  and  enduring,  the  things  which 
pertain  to  life  and  godliness. 

And  I  assume  all  this  because  our  Lord  Himself 
makes  the  assumption,  and  we  can  only  discuss  the 
problem  which  his  words  suggest  so  long  as  we  bear  in 
mind  how  He  conditions  that  problem,  and  what  it  is 
that  his  words  imply.  In  this  discourse  on  Prayer,  He 
takes  it  for  granted  that  you  will  ask  for  "^^^^  gifts," 
for  "  bread  "  and  for  "  fish,"  not  for  "  stones  "  and  for 
"  serpents,"  not  for  that  which  will  only  weigh  you  down 
and  hold  you  back,  nor  for  the  cold,  selfish,  serpentine 
cunning  which  seeks  only  its  own  ends,  and  has  none  but 
visible  and  temporal  ends.  And  He  encourages  you  to 
set  your  heart  on  these  '^  good  things,"  and  to  aim  your 
prayers  at  them,  by  the  promise,  which  is  also  an  argu- 
ment, "If  ye  then,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good 
gifts  unto  your  children,  how  much  more  shall  your 
Father  who  is  in  heaven  (and  in  whom  there  is  no  evil) 
give  good  things  to  them  that  ask  him." 

What  our  Lord  had  in  his  mind,  what  and  what  kind 
of  thing,  when  He  spoke  of  the  "  good  things  "  which  the 
good  Father  is  always  ready  to  bestow  on  his  seeking 
children,  we  may  gather  from  St.  Luke's  report  of  the 


PRA  YER  AND  PROMISE.  67 

very  promise  which  wc  have  just  heard  from  St.  Matthew. 
In  St.  Luke  (Chap.  xi.  13)  this  promise  is  given  with  only 
one,  but  that  a  most  significant,  variation  :  "  If  ye  then, 
being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  unto  j'our 
children,  how  much  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father 
give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  him."  Obviously 
our  Lord  assumes,  as  I  have  assumed,  that  you  will  care 
most  for  the  best  things,  for  the  things  which  make  for 
life  and  peace  ;  and  that  if  you  can  only  be  sure  of  re- 
ceiving t/u'sc  when  you  ask  for  them,  you  will  cheerfully 
leave  God  to  add  to  them  whatever  inferior  things  you 
may  also  need.  As  you  well  may  ;  for  if  God  will  give 
you  that  which  is  greatest,  why  should  He  withhold  from 
you  that  which  is  least,  save  only  when  lesser  things 
would  hinder  and  embarrass  your  reception  of  the  greatest 
and  the  best  .-'  He  assumes  that  when  you  ask  for  "good 
gifts,"  what  you  will  seek  most  earnestly  of  all  will  be 
"  the  Holy  Spirit,"  the  Spirit  which  will  make  you  holy. 
In  other  words,  He  gives  you  credit  for  desiring  above 
all  else  a  wise  and  righteous,  a  pure  and  kindly  heart, 
because,  having  this,  you  have  all  that  pertains  to  life 
and  godliness  ;  because,  having  this,  you  have  all  things 
and  abound. 

And  I  devoutly  trust,  my  brethren,  that  He  does  not 
give  you  more  credit  than  you  deser-oe.  Most  of  \-ou  at 
least,  I  think,  must  have  lived  long  enough  and  have  had 
sufficient  experience  of  life,  to  have  learned  that  a  right 


68  PRA  YER  AND  PROMISE. 

spirit,  a  pure  and  loving  heart,  is  God's  best  gift  to  man ; 
that,  without  this,  all  else  is  vain  ;  that,  with  this,  all  is 
won.  I  hope  that  there  is  no  fate  which  would  be  so 
dreadful  to  you,  none  from  which  you  would  shrink  with 
such  loathing  and  fear,  as  to  be  allowed  to  go  smoothly 
and  prosperously  on  your  way  while  you  had  a  mean 
and  foolish,  an  unrighteous  and  an  unloving  spirit  within 
you,  a  spirit  so  bent  on  selfish  and  sordid  aims  as  to  have 
no  eyes  for  what  was  above  and  beyond  them.  I  would 
fain  believe  that  you  would  welcome  any  loss,  any  tribu- 
lation, if  only  you  knew  that  it  would  purify  and  elevate 
your  spirit ;  if  only  you  were  sure  that,  by  bringing  you 
a  larger  wisdom  and  a  warmer  love,  it  would  add  to  the 
fulness  and  completeness  of  your  life,  and  draw  you  into 
a  closer  fellowship  with  the  Spirit  of  all  truth  and  grace. 
Well,  this  is  the  attitude  and  posture  of  the  soul  for 
which  Christ  gives  you  credit.  He  assumes  that,  when 
you  pray,  you  will  ask  for  good  gifts,  and  that  by  good 
gifts  you  will  understand  above  all  the  gift  of  that  Holy 
Spirit  of  God  which  alone  can  make  you  holy,  and  wise, 
and  kind.  And  He  promises  you  that,  if  you  ask  for 
this  renewing,  enlarging,  uplifting  Spirit,  it  shall  be  given 
you  ;  that  if  you  seek,  you  shall  find  it  ;  that  if  it  is  for 
this  you  knock,  the  gate  shall  be  opened  unto  you. 
"  Men  do  not  get  what  they  want,  because  they  do  not 
want  the  best."  If  you  really  want  the  best,  our  Lord 
assures  you  that  you  shall  get  it. 


PRAYER  AND  PROMISE.  69 

Read  thus,  in  its  connection  and  true  meaning,  do  you 
any  longer  ask  if  the  Promise  is  true,  if  it  is  verified  by 
the  facts  of  experience?  It  is  plainly  and  obviously 
true — as  all  the  promises  are  when  once  we  understand 
them  ;  and  that  in  two  ways. 

First,  if  you  ask,  that  is,  if  you  seek,  and  seek  with  an 
earnest  and  stedfast  importunity,  for  the  best  things — 
for  a  clean  heart,  a  right  spirit,  a  will  attuned  to  the  will 
of  God — God  has  already  in  some  measure  given  them 
to  you.  These  deep  and  earnest  cravings  for  goodness 
are  the  germ  and  beginning  of  all  goodness.  They  have 
been  implanted,  kindled,  sustained  in  you  by  his  good 
Spirit.  You  /lave,  therefore,  before  you  ask,  and  that 
you  may  ask.  Your  very  prayer  is  itself  a  proof  that 
your  prayer  has  been  heard  ;  your  quest  a  proof  that  you 
have  found  ;  your  knocking  a  proof  that  the  gate  has 
been  opened,  and  that  it  still  stands  open  to  you.  O, 
take  the  lesson  to  heart  !  For  when  can  you  lack  com- 
fort and  hope  if  you  know  and  believe  that  your  prayer 
contains  its  own  answer,  that  your  desire  implies  its  own 
satisfaction,  that  you  would  never  have  asked  for  the 
best  things  if  God  had  not  moved  you  to  ask  for  them, 
and  did  not  mean  to  give  them  ? 

For,  finally,  in  this  proof  that  you  were  heard  before 
you  asked,  and  answered  before  you  spoke,  there  lies  a 
pledge  that  you  shall  be  still  more  abundantly  blessed. 
The  desires  for  wisdom  and  righteousness,  for  a  lowly, 


70  PRA  YER  AND  PROMISE. 

pure,  and  kindly  heart,  which  you  pour  out  before  God 
in  your  prayers,  are  cherished,  fed,  strengthened  by  being 
expressed  in  his  Presence.  The  wish  takes  on  the  con- 
secration of  a  vow.  The  vow  impels  you  to  a  more 
constant  and  importunate  search,  or  endeavour  to  possess 
yourselves  of  the  good  things  you  ask  for.  You  are  not 
content  with  simple  asking  ;  you  seek  for  them  :  and  not 
content  even  with  seeking,  you  knock  as  those  in  utmost 
need,  who  will  not  be  denied.  And  this  is  precisely  the 
attitude  of  the  soul  to  which  all  things  are  possible,  all 
things  granted.  The  man  who  seeks  wealth  finds  it,  if 
only  he  seek  earnestly  enough  and  subordinate  all  other 
aims  to  this.  The  man  who  seeks  knowledge  finds  it,  if 
only  he  seek  earnestly  enough  and  will  not  be  diverted 
from  his  quest.  And  shall  not  the  man  who  seeks  good- 
ness find  it,  if  only  he  seek  earnestly  enough,  and  will 
be  content  with  nothing  short  of  it  ? 

The  best  things  are  open  to  every  man,  even  the  best 
of  all,  the  Spirit  of  all  goodness.  God  is  not  the  poorer 
for  giving  it,  but  the  richer  :  why,  then,  should  He  not 
bestow  it  on  as  many  as  ask  ?  God  is  your  Father. 
Must  He  not  desire  that  his  children  should  be  of  one 
spirit  with  Him  even  more  earnestly  than  they  desire  it  ? 

"  Ask,  then,  and  it  sJiall  be  given  you  ;  seek,  and  ye 
shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you.  For 
everyone  that  asketh  rcceiveth  ;  everyone  that  scckcth 
findcth  :  to  everyone  that  knocketh  it  is  opened." 


VI. 


WISDOM,   WHENCE   SHALL   SHE  BE 
GOTTEN? 

"  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  who  giveth  to 
all  men  liberally,  and  upbraidcth  not,  and  it  shall  be  given  him." — 
James  i.  5. 

WiLVT  is  that  which  is  most  inseparable  from  a  man, 
and  of  the  greatest  worth  to  him  tc/ii/e  Jic  lives  ?  Surely 
it  is  himself,  his  personality,  his  character  such  as  he  has 
made  it.  What  is  that,  again,  which  alone  a  man  can 
take  with  him  ivhcn  he  dies,  and  the  quality  of  which 
must  shape  his  future  destiny  ?  Surely  it  is  himself,  his 
personality,  his  character  such  as  he  has  made  it.  That, 
then,  which  is  of  supreme  importance  to  us,  that  which 
endures  through  all  the  changes  and  decays  of  nature, 
that  which  really  determines  our  fate  in  life,  in  death, 
and  after  death,  is  the  character  which  has  been  framed 
and  developed  in  us  during  these  fleeting  hours  of  time, 
and  by  all  the  chances  and  changes  of  this  mutable 
world.  T/iis  is,  and  will  be,  our  sole,  our  real,  posses- 
sion, the   single  fountain   from  which  our  bliss  or  our 


72     WISDOM,   WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN? 

misery  flows,  for  ever.  So  that  our  highest  wisdom,  the 
one  true  secret  of  life,  is  self-training,  self-culture,  the 
development  of  a  complete  and  noble  character. 

The  point  is  so  important,  and  so  much  depends  upon 
it,  that  I  must  ask  you  to  dwell  on  it  a  little,  to  turn  it 
round  and  round  in  your  thoughts,  in  order  that  you 
may  see  it  on  all  sides,  in  order  that  you  may  assure 
and  persuade  yourselves  of  its  truth. 

Character,  I  say,  the  formation  of  a  noble  and  com- 
plete character,  is  the  secret  and  wisdom  of  life ;  and 
you  are  to  consider  whether  or  not  that  be  true.  What, 
then,  are  the  things  in  which  you  take  the  gravest  in- 
terest, which  most  engage  your  time,  your  thoughts, 
your  heart,  your  activities  ?  Business  and  its  gains, 
shall  we  say }  and  home  and  its  pleasures.  You  go 
forth  to  labour  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  evening  you 
return  to  your  homes.  You  want  your  business  to 
prosper  ;  you  want  your  homes  to  be  pleasant.  But 
does  not  much  of  your  success  in  business,  if  not  all, 
depend  on  your  character,  i.e.,  your  energy,  your  know- 
ledge, your  tact,  your  integrity  ?  And  does  not  nearly 
all  the  pleasure  you  take  in  your  success,  whether  that 
success  be  less  or  more,  depend  on  your  character  ? 
Look  around  you.  You  see  men  whose  business  grows 
larger  and  more  profitable  year  by  year.  They  are  rich 
and  increased  in  goods  ;  they  have  all  that  heart  could 
wish.     Are  they,  necessarily,  happy  in  their  gains  ?     If 


IVJSDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN^   73 

they  are  of  a  base  and  selfish,  a  grasping  and  an  envious 
spirit,  or  if  they  are  of  a  peevish,  fretful,  and  discon- 
tented spirit,  arc  they  not  most  miserable,  however 
rapidly  their  gains  accumulate  ?  On  the  other  hand,  do 
you  not  know  men  who,  though  they  arc  far  from 
wealthy,  are  nevertheless  of  so  manly,  cheerful,  and 
hopeful  a  temper  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  them  ?  so 
bright  that  they  shed  a  brightness  on  the  day  ?  so  brave 
and  manful  that  they  inspire  you  with  new  courage  and 
hope  ?  And  of  these  last  do  you  not  feel  that  they  are 
equal  to  any  fortune,  and  would  conquer  in  almost  any 
strife  with  adversity  by  force  of  sheer  resolution  and  an 
invincible  hopefulness  of  heart?  If  the  choice  were 
offered  you,  "Take  mere  wealth,  or  take  this  strong, 
bold,  manly  temperament,"  which  would  you  prefer  if 
you  were  wise  ?  Not  the  wealth,  I  am  sure,  but  the 
fine  temper  which  can  cither  enjoy  wealth  or  dispense 
with  it. 

Nor  is  character  of  less  value  in  the  home,  with  its 
charities  and  pleasures,  than  in  business,  and  its  gains 
or  losses,  A  sweet  and  noble  character  goes  far  to 
make  a  happy  home  even  in  the  unhappiest  conditions. 
Most  of  us,  I  suppose,  have  known  men,  not  at  all 
singularly  blessed  in  wife,  children,  or  conditions,  who 
have  nevertheless  contrived  to  shed  an  atmosphere  of 
health,  and  peace,  and  gaiety  around  them,  who  have 
somehow  infected  even  a  peevish  wife,  or  an  ill-condi- 


74    WISDOM,   WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN f 

tioncd  child,  with  their  own  good  nature,  and  have  made 
even  a  poor  home  the  abode  of  love  and  cheerful  good- 
will. And,  on  the  other  hand,  have  we  not  all  known 
men  with  sumptuous  abodes,  loving  wives,  obedient 
kindly-naturcd  children,  who  came  into  their  homes 
like  an  east  wind,  or  a  nipping  frost,  and  wrought  as 
unkindly  and  inauspicious  a  change  ? 

Far  more,  then,  than  on  outward  conditions,  the 
welfare  and  happiness  of  life  depend  on  character. 
He  whose  character  is  well-balanced  and  well-developed, 
who  is  not  only  manly,  but  a  mature  and  complete  man, 
is  equal  to  any  conditions,  and  rises  superior  to  them  all. 

So  again,  and  still  more  obviously,  in  death  character 
is  of  supreme  importance.  We  often  say,  "  It  is  very 
certain  that  as  we  brought  nothing  into  the  world,  so 
also  we  can  carry  nothing  out."  And,  in  a  sense,  the 
saying  is  pathetically  true.  We  must  leave  all  behind. 
We  cannot  take  our  factories,  homes,  gains,  books,  or 
even  our  dearest  friends,  with  us.  A  great  gulf  suddenly 
yawns  between  us  and  all  whom  we  have  loved  ;  and  we 
have  to  go  on  our  way  and  leave  them  weeping  on  the 
other  side,  vainly  straining  their  eyes  toward  the  dark- 
ness which  hides  us  from  them.  In  this  sense,  the 
common  saying  is  obviously  and  pathetically  true.  But, 
in  a  deeper  sense,  it  is  as  obviously  untrue.  Is  it  "  very 
certain  that  we  brought  nothing  into  the  world  "  with  us 
— no  hereditary  bias,  no  predispositions,  no  special  apti- 


WISDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN?   75 

tudcs,  no  defects  of  will  or  taints  of  blood  ?  Surely  not. 
Nor  is  it  by  any  means  certain  that  \vc  shall  "  take 
nothing  out "  of  the  world.  We  shall  take  tfiuch — 
nothing  visible  and  external  indeed,  but  how  much  that 
is  inward  and  spiritual  !  We  shall  take  the  character 
we  have  built  up,  the  bias  we  have  developed,  the  habits 
we  have  formed.  We  shall  take  the  love  and  the  prayers 
of  our  friends,  if  we  have  been  happy  enough  to  win  their 
love.  Our  works  will  go  with  us,  and  follow  after  us, 
the  kind  deeds  we  have  done,  and,  alas,  the  unkind  also. 
Like  the  Prophet's  roll,  our  whole  soul  will  be  written 
within  and  without  with  signs  which  God  will  read,  and 
from  which  He  will  read  off  our  sentence.  All  that 
strange  complex  of  natural  temperament,  hereditary 
gifts,  and  acquired  habits,  which  we  call  cliai'actcr,  the 
result  of  a  myriad  various  influences — all  this  will  go 
with  us,  and  in  us,  when  we  arise  to  follow  the  summons 
of  Death.  And,  beyond  a  doubt,  then  as  now,  there  as 
here,  the  ruling  bent  of  our  character  will  determine  our 
fate. 

Are  }-ou  convinced,  m)-  brethren  }  Uo  you  admit 
that,  in  life  and  in  death,  character  is  of  vital  and 
supreme  importance  ?  that  "  it  matters  not  how  long 
we  live,  but  hozv"  ?  that  what  happens  to  us  is  a  very 
small  thing  as  compared  with  how  we  take  it?  If  }-ou 
are,  you  will  acknowledge  that  your  main  task  in  the 
world  is   the  formation  of  character  ;    that    it  is  your 


76     WISDOM,   WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN f 

highest  wisdom    to  endeavour  after  a  character  which 

shall  be  noble  and  complete,  a  character  which  will  fit 

you  both  to  live  and  to  die.     All  else  is  of  no  worth 

compared  with  this.     All  else  is  of  no  worth  save  as  it 

contributes  to  this. 

But,  though  this  be  our  highest  wisdom,  is  it  within 

our  reach  ?     Let  us  ask  St.  James.     In  writing  to  the 

Christian   Jews  who  were  exiles^  in    foreign    lands,  he 

commences  his  Letter  by  wishing  them  "joy."i     But 

as  their  outward  conditions  were  most  miserable,  as  men 

of  their  blood  were  hated,  and  plundered,  and  persecuted 

far  more  bitterly  then  than  they  are  now,  he  felt  that 

his  wish,  his  salutation,  "  Joy  to  you,"  would  grate  on 

their  hearts  unless  he  could   teach  them,  by  a  certain 

divine  alchemy,  to  extract  joy  from  their  very  miseries. 

This  divine  art,  therefore,  he  at  once  proceeds  to  teach 

them  in  the  verses  which  immediately  precede  my  text. 

They  were  to  "  count  it  all  joy,"  pire  joy,  noi/iing  but 

joy,  when  they  were  exercised  with  divers  trials  and 

tribulations,  when  their  outward  conditions  grew  hard, 

painful,  threatening  :  for  these  trials  came  to  test  their 

faith   in   God  ;  and  this  testing  was  designed  by  God, 

whatever  man  might  mean  by  it,  to  breed  in  them  sted- 

'  "Joy  to  you  "  was  the  common  Greek  salutation,  as  "peace  to 
you  "  was  the  common  Hebrew  salutation.  And  the  Epistle  of  St. 
James  opens  with  this  Greek  salutation  as  the  margin  of  our 
Revised  Version  indicates.  For,  while  the  text  retains  the  word 
"  greeting,"  the  margin  more  literally  renders  "  wisheth  joy." 


WISDO.Xf,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN f    77 

fastness,  courage,  a  resolute  constancy  of  spirit.  If  they 
suffered  trial  to  train  and  develop  this  constancy,  this 
patient  fidelity,  if,  i.e.^  they  suffered  trial  to  produce  its 
due  and  proper  effect  upon  them,  they  would  become 
mature  and  complete  men,  lacking  nothing.  In  other 
words,  this  patient  and  faithful  endurance,  which  God 
sent  and  intended  adversity  to  produce,  would  gradually 
workout  in  them  that  manly  and  noble  character  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  is  our  highest  good,  since  it  fits  us  both 
to  live  and  to  die  ;  a  good,  therefore,  which  it  is  our 
highest  wisdom  to  seek. 

This,  then,  is  the  point  I  want  you  to  mark — that  our 
argument  is  confirmed  by  St.  James.  He,  too,  holds  the 
right  formation  of  character  to  be  the  sum  of  human 
wisdom.  "  Trials,"  he  says — and  by  "  trials  "  he  means 
such  familiar  adversities  as  pain,  loss,  the  hatred  and 
contempt  of  the  world,  and  the  fear  and  grief  which  they 
breed  in  us — "  if  they  be  bravely  met,  search  out  and 
carry  away  faults  and  defects  of  character,  as  the  acid 
bites  out  the  alloy  from  the  gold.  They  make,  or  tend 
to  make,  us  of  so  complete  and  entire  a  manliness  that 
nothing  is  lacking  to  us."  And,  here,  he  seems  to  pause 
and  reflect  for  a  moment.  "  Nothing  lacking  !  Ah,  but 
those  to  whom  I  write  may  lack  zvisdom  to  sec  that  the 
endeavour  to  become  complete  and'  mature  men  in 
Christ  Jesus  is  the  truest  and  highest  wisdom,  an  aim 
so  high  and  precious  that,  to  reach  it,  they  should  count 


73     WISDOM,   WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN? 

the  world,  and  all  that  the  world  has  to  offer,  well  lost." 
And,  therefore,  he  adds  :  "  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom," 
i.e.^  if  any  of  you  lack  this  wisdom,  the  wisdom  which 
holds  the  hope  of  becoming  perfect  in  character  above 
all  other  aims,  let  him  ask  it  of  God,  and  it  shall  be 
given  him." 

So  that,  according  to  James,  the  brother  of  our  Lord, 
the  supreme  good  of  life,  the  character  which  fits  us  both 
to  live  and  to  die,  is  within  our  reach.  Many  of  us,  no 
doubt,  do  lack  the  wisdom  to  make  the  attainment  of 
this  perfect  manliness  our  supreme  aim  :  for  when  St 
James  says,  "//"any  man  lack  this  wisdom,"  he  does  not 
mean  to  imply  a  doubt  that  we  lack  it.  He  knows  that 
men  do  lack  it,  some  being  wholly  without  it,  and  others 
having  it  only  in  part.  His  word  "if"  is  equivalent  to 
our  word  "  whenever,"  and  what  he  means  is  that  so 
soon,  and  so  often,  as  we  become  conscious  of  this  lack, 
we  may  take  it  to  God  and  have  it  supplied. 

As  interpreting  St.  James  to  your  moral  and  spiritual 
conditions,  therefore,  I  have,  first,  to  warn  you  that  you 
do  lack  the  wisdom  which  lacks  nothing  ;  that  you  do 
not  keep  the  hope  of  becoming  perfect  men  in  Christ 
Jesus  constantly  before  you  ;  that  you  are  not  content 
to  endure  any  trial,  however  bitter  and  deep,  in  order 
that  you  may  become  perfect :  and  that  still  less  can 
you  account  these  keen  and  piercing  tests  pure  joy  and 
nothing  but  joy.     But,  happily,  I   have  also  to  assure 


WISDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN f    79 

you  that  the  wisdom,  which  seems  beyond  your  reach, 
is  nevertheless  within  your  reach  ;  that  if  you  ask  it  of 
God,  it  shall  be  j^iven  you.  lie  will  teach  and  help  you 
to  put  a  pure  and  noble  character  bcfc^re  the  happiest 
outward  conditions.  He  will  help  you  to  welcome  the 
trials  by  which  He  is  seeking  to  make  you  stedfast,  to 
brace  you  to  a  mature  and  complete  manliness,  to  supply 
what  is  lacking  in  you  until  you  lack  nothing.  He 
touches  you  here,  and  touches  j'ou  there,  with  his  tests, 
commonly  searching  out  your  tcndcrest  and  weakest 
points,  seeming  at  times  to  wrap  your  whole  nature  in 
the  fiery  acid  ;  but  his  design,  his  purpose,  is  that  you 
may  become  pure  gold  throughout  :  his  will  is  your 
perfection. 

If  you  cannot  sec  that  to  be  his  purpose,  ask  Him  to 
shew  it  to  you,  and  He  will  shew  it.  If  you  are  saying 
within  yourselves,  "  I  cannot  see  anything  in  the  trial 
that  is  wearing  me  out  and  exhausting  my  powers 
which  is  at  all  likely  to  make  me  any  better,"  obviously 
you  lack  wisdom.  You  can  see  neither  the  good  end 
God  has  in  view  for  you,  nor  how  it  is  to  be  accom- 
plished. "  If  any  man  lack  this  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of 
God,  and  it  shall  be  given  him."  You  may  be  sure  that 
the  good  God  fias  a  good  end  in  all  He  does,  even  though 
you  cannot  see  it.  But  if  you  want  to  see  it,  if  it  be 
necessary  to  your  welfare  and  peace  that  you  should  see 
it,  ask    Him    to  shew  it    to   you.     St.  James  did    not 


8o     WISDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN? 

hesitate  to  say,  "  //  shall  be  given  you  : "  why  should  I 
scruple  to  repeat  it  ?  Nor  is  it  only  St.  James's  voice 
that  we  hear  in  this  gracious  promise.  His  words  are 
here,  what  they  often  are  elsewhere,  simply  an  echo  of 
the  words  of  Him  to  whom  God  has  given  all  authority 
in  heaven  and  on  earth.  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given 
you/'  says  James  ;  but  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  a 
greater  than  he  said,  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you  ; 
seek,  and  ye  shall  find ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened 
unto  you  :  for  every  one  that  asketh  receiveth  ;  and  he 
that  seeketh  findeth  ;  and  to  him  that  knocketh  it  shall 
be  opened."  In  short,  it  is  no  one  less  than  the  Lord 
from  heaven  who  assures  us  that,  whether  we  lack 
wisdom  to  make  God's  will  our  will,  or  wisdom  to  see 
the  wisdom  of  his  will,  we  have  but  to  ask,  and  our  lack 
of  wisdom  shall  be  supplied. 

Let  me  put  a  case.  Let  me  suppose  that  you  are 
growing  impatient,  or  despondent,  under  the  pressure 
of  some  heavy  and  protracted  trial,  the  kindly  purpose 
of  which  you  do  not  see.  And  you  ask  God  to  give 
you  wisdom  that  you  may  both  see  and  believe  in  the 
kind  end  for  which  He  sent  it.  Is  it  likely,  is  it  reason- 
able, to  expect  that  He  will  answer  your  prayer  ? 
Surely  it  is  most  likely,  most  reasonable.  If  you  talk 
with  men,  indeed,  your  pride  and  obstinacy  may  be 
roused.  In  reply  to  all  they  urge  you  may  say,  "  Still, 
I  don't  see  that  any  good  comes,  or  can  come,  from  this 


WIS  DO  AT,   WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN?    8i 

misery,  and  nothing  shall  ever  persuade  me  that  good 
will  come  of  it."  But  if  you  speak  with  God,  you 
cannot  for  very  reverence  take  the  tone  which  you 
might  take  with  one  no  wiser  than  yourself.  If  you  ask 
Hifu  for  wisdom  to  see  his  purpose  in  afflicting  you, 
you  will  try  to  see  it.  You  will  admit  that  God  may 
be  right,  and  you  wrong.  You  may  even  come  to  feel 
that  He  juiist  be  right,  though  you  are  too  weak  and 
ignorant  to  see  what  He  is  doing  with  you.  And,  then, 
He  who  can  lay  his  finger  on  all  the  springs  of  thought 
and  emotion  within  us,  may,  and  will,  touch  your  hearts 
in  the  right  place.  Coming  to  Him  in  the  attitude  of 
humble  and  sincere  prayer,  bringing  an  open  mind  to 
the  influence  of  his  truth  and  grace,  He  will  be  able 
to  reveal  his  will  and  purpose  to  you,  and  you  will  learn 
that  it  is  in  love  and  compassion,  not  in  anger,  that  He 
has  afflicted  you. 

Let  me  put  another  case.  Let  me  suppose  that  you 
do  not  yet  see  Character  to  be  far  more  valuable  than 
happy  outward  conditions,  that  you  have  not  learned 
to  make  it  your  supreme  aim  to  become  mature  and 
complete  men  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  and  yet  you  are  not 
satisfied  with  the  aims  you  have  set  before  you.  You 
find  that,  even  when  you  reach  them,  you  cannot  rest 
in  them.  You  begin  to  suspect  that  you  lack  wisdom 
to  choose  your  own  way  and  your  own  aims,  tliat  you 
have  not  discovered  the  supreme  good,  having  which 
7 


82     WISDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN^ 

you  can  be  content  whatever  else  you  lack.  If  that  be 
your  position,  and  you  ask  wisdom  of  God,  the  wisdom 
to  see  what  your  supreme  good  is  and  where  it  lies,  is  it 
reasonable  to  believe  that  He  will  give  it  you  ?  Again, 
it  is  reasonable,  most  reasonable.  For,  as  you  pray,  you 
grow  sincere.  You  can  see  more  clearly  what  your  life 
has  been  given  you  for,  for  wljflt  high  and  noble  ends. 
You  endeavour  to  break  throgh  the  clouds  which  hide 
the  chief  end  of  man  from  you,  and  to  break  away  from 
the  cravings  and  distractions  which  divert  you  from 
pursuing  it.  In  short  you  re-ach  the  position,  and  take 
the  attitude,  in  which  you  ^-l•e  most  likely,  as  all  expe- 
rience proves,  to  find  wisdc^m.  You  so  relate  yourself 
to  the  Father  of  lights  that  He  is  able  to  shed  light 
into  your  soul. 

And  if  He  is  able,  can  you  doubt  that  He  is  willing  ? 
What  is  the  sun  full  of  light  for  but  that  it  may  shine  ? 
And  what  is  God  good  for  but  that  He  may  shew  Him- 
self good,  that  He  may  impart  his  goodness.  The  sun 
may  shine  on  cold  hard  surfaces  that  simply  throw  off 
its  light ;  but  where  it  ca?i  penetrate  and  fructify,  it  does. 
And  God  may  shew  his  love  and  grace  to  hearts  that 
cannot  or  will  not  receive  them  ;  but  where  He  finds  an 
open  and  prepared,  a  seeking  and  receptive,  heart,  He 
enters  in,  and  enters  to  make  it  wise  and  good. 

If  you  want  testimony  to  his  goodness  from  one  who 
has  experienced  it,  listen  to  St.  James.    As  he  bids  you 


IVISDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN?    83 

ask  of  God  the  wisdom  you  lack,  he  encourages  you  to 
ask  it  by  describing  God  as  "the  Giver,"  the  universal 
Giver,  as  giving  to  all  men.  God  goes  on  giving,  just 
as  the  sun  goes  on  shining,  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good, 
on  the  just  and.  on  the  unjust.  The  difference  between 
men  is  not  that  God  refuses  any  of  them  any  one  of  the 
gifts  necessary  to  their  welfare  and  salvation,  but  that 
some  receive  and  [)rofit  by  them,  while  others  reject 
them  or  abuse  them  to  their  own  hurt.  If,  then,  you 
honestly  crave  wisdom  to  make  his  will  your  will,  to 
aim  at  that  maturity  and  perfection  of  character  which 
He  knows  to  be  your  supreme  good,  He  will  as  surely 
give  you  that  wisdom  as  the  sweet,  pure,  sun- warmed 
air  will  flow  into  your  room  when  you  throw  open  your 
window  to  the  day. 

You  need  have  no  fear  that  God  will  palter  with  you 
in  a  double  sense,  that  He  will  keep  his  word  of  promise 
to  the  ear,  but  break  it  to  the  hope  it  has  inspired.  For 
He  giveth  "  with  liberality,"  or  "  with  simplicity^'  with 
singleness  of  spirit,  and  without  reserve.  He  is  not  "of 
two  minds,"  as  men  often  are.  He  does  not,  as  men 
often  do,  give,  and  yet  in  effect  not  give.  Nor  does  He 
give,  and  yet  by  an  ungracious  manner,  or  by  subsequent 
ungenerous  exactions,  spoil  and  neutralize  his  gifts,  and 
make  you  wish  you  had  not  accepted  them.  His  gifts 
are  without  duplicity,  even  as  they  are  without  repent- 
ance.    He  has  no  bye-ends  to  serve,  no  self-regarding 


84    WISDOM,   WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN? 

motive.  He  does  not  give  that  He  may  get.  He  gives, 
simply  because  He  is  "the  Giver,"  because  He  loves 
giving,  because  He  loves  jw/  and  seeks  your  welfare. 

Nor  need  you  fear  to  ask  of  Him  either  because  you 
have  so  often  asked  before,  or  because  you  have  never 
asked  before.  For  He  "  upbraidetJi  not."  He  will  not 
reproach  you  with  his  former  mercies,  or  with  your 
former  indifference  to  them.  All  He  asks  is  that  you 
will  ask  of  Him.  It  is  his  good  pleasure  to  give  you 
pleasure  and  to  do  you  good.  He  is  of  a  perfect 
wisdom,  and  longs  to  make  you  wise.  You  can  do  Him 
no  greater  kindness  than  to  ask,  receive,  and  use  the 
gifts  He  has  to  bestow.  If,  then,  any  of  you  lack 
wisdom,  wisdom  to  count  it  all  joy  that  you  are  being 
made  perfect  and  complete  men  by  the  divers  trials 
which  put  your  character  to  the  test,  and  put  it  to  the 
test  that  they  may  raise  and  refine  it,  ask  that  wisdom 
of  God  who  giveth  liberally  to  all  men,  and  upbraideth 
not,  and  it  shall  be  given  you. 

And,  in  especial,  I  would  urge  those  of  you  who 
are  now  being  tried,  and  tried,  as  you  sometimes  fear, 
beyond  your  strength,  to  ask  wisdom  of  the  great  Giver 
of  wisdom.  From  whatever  cause  your  anxieties  and 
griefs  may  spring,  whether  they  spring  from  broken 
health,  from  the  threatening  aspect  of  your  business 
affairs,  or  from  trouble  in  the  home,  whether  they  spring 
from  your  own  follies  and  sins  or  from  the  sins  and 


WISDOM,   WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN t    85 

follies  of  your  nci^^hboiirs,  God  intends  them  for  your 
good,  for  the  discipline  and  growth  of  character  ;  intends 
them  to  spur  and  brace  )'ou  to  fortitude,  courage, 
patience  ;  and  therefore  He  would  have  you  count  them 
all  joy,  since  they  will  bring  you  joy  at  the  last  if  you 
meet  them  with  a  constant  spirit.  But  lioiv  can  you 
meet  them  in  such  a  spirit  unless  you  believe  that  He 
intends  them  for  your  good  ? 

Whether  your  trials  will  do  you  good  or  harm  depends 
on  the  way  in  which  you  adjust  yourselves  to  them,  on 
liow  }'ou  take  them  ;  and  this,  again,  depends  on  the 
leading  aim  you  set  before  you.  If  you  only  care,  or 
care  mainly,  to  "get  on,"  to  amass  a  fortune,  or  to  take 
your  ease,  your  losses  and  disappointments,  your  crosses 
and  cares,  will  only  sadden  and  distress  you.  But  if 
your  chief  aim  is  to  become  good  men,  mature  and 
perfect  men,  created  anew  after  the  pattern  and  image 
of  Christ  Jesus,  you  will  try  to  get  some  good,  some 
training  in  goodness,  from  your  very  cares  and  sorrows. 
Under  their  pressure  you  will  endeavour  more  earnestly 
than  ever  to  acquire  that  equal  mind  which  takes 
Fortune's  buffets  and  rewards  with  composure,  that  firm 
and  habitual  trust  in  God  and  in  his  gracious  intentions 
toward  you  which  is  your  only  adequate  support  amid 
the  chances  and  changes  of  time.  Above  all  men  you 
admire  those  who  arc  of  a  brave  and  constant  spirit, 
who  will  not  be  a  pipe  in  Fortune's  fingers  and  let  her 


86    WISDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN? 

play  what  step  she  please,  who  will  not  be  daunted  by 
her  frowns  or  carried  away  by  her  smiles.  And  can  you 
complain  that  God  is  seeking  to  make  you  the  sort 
of  man  you  most  admire,  as  independent  of  all  outward 
advantages  or  disadvantages  as  our  Lord  Himself,  as 
resolutely  bent  on  making  God's  will  your  will,  and 
rising  into  the  mature  and  perfect  manliness  which  is 
his  aim  for  you  and  should  be  your  chief  aim  for 
yourselves?  If  you  care  most  for  Character,  the  trials 
that  brace,  refine,  and  elevate  your  character  should 
not  be  unwelcome  to  you.  And  if  as  yet  you  lack  the 
wisdom  which  sees  in  every  trial  a  discipline  of  character 
and  perfection,  ask  this  wisdom  of  God  the  Giver,  and 
it  shall  be  given  you. 

And  do  not  be  daunted,  do  not  infer  that  God  has 
forgotten  to  be  gracious,  if  you  do  not  receive,  or  think 
you  do  not  receive,  an  immediate  answer  to  your  prayer. 
Our  prayers  themselves  are  often  God's  best  answers 
to  our  prayers,  as  even  men  unguided  by  the  Christian 
Faith,  but  not  untaught  of  God,  have  discovered.  Thus, 
for  instance,  an  old  Persian  poet  (of  the  thirteenth 
century),  speaking  of  an  austere  Islamite  saint,  says  : 

That  just  person  was  crying,  "O  Allah  !  " 
That  his  mouth  might  be  sweetened  thereby. 
And  Satan  said  to  him,  "  Be  quiet,  O  austere  one, 
How  long  wilt  thou  babble,  O  man  of  many  words.? 
No  answer  comes  to  thee  from  nigh  the  throne  : 
How  long  wilt  thou  cry  '  Allah '  with  harsh  face  ?  " 


WISDOM,  WHENCE  SHALL  SHE  BE  GOTTEN?   87 

That  person  was  sad  at  heart,  and  hung  his  head, 

And  then  beheld  the  prophet  Khizr  before  him  in  a  vision, 

Who  said  to  him,  "Ah,  thou  hast  ceased  to  call  on  God  ; 

Wherefore  repentest  thou  of  calling  on  Him?" 

The  man  said,  "The  answer,  '  Here  am  I,'  came  not. 

Wherefore  I  fear  that  I  am  repulsed  from  the  door." 

Khizr  replied  to  him,  "  God  has  given  me  this  command  : 

Go  to  him  and  say,  O  much-tried  one, 

Did  not  I  engage  thee  to  do  me  service  ? 

Did  I  not  engage  thee  to  call  on  me  ? 

That  calling  *  Allah  '  of  thine  was  my  '  Here  am  I,' 

And  that  pain  and  longing  and  ardour  of  thine  my  messenger  ; 

Thy  struggles  and  strivings  for  assistance 

Were  my  attractings  and  originated  thy  prayer. 

Thy  fear  and  thy  love  are  the  covert  of  my  mercy, 

Each  *  O  Lord  '  of  thine  contains  many  a  '  Here  am  I.' "  ' 

Be  of  good  couraf^c,  then,  and  strengthen  thy  heart  ; 
and  wait  thou  on  the  Lord.     Wait,  I  say,  on  the  Lord. 

'  Masmn'i  oi  ]a.\&.-'iX  din  .\.D.  1 207-1 273. 


VII.    . 

THE   CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

"  Then  one  of  them,  a  lawyer,  put  a  question  to  test  hhn  : 
Master,  what  is  the  best  commandment  in  the  law?  Jesus  said 
unto  him,  Thou  shall  love  the  Lord  thy  God  in  the  whole  of  thy 
heart,  and  in  the  whole  of  thy  soul,  and  in  the  whole  of  thy  mind. 
This  is  the  best  and  first  commandment.  But  there  is  a  second 
like  it  ;  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  In  these  two 
commandments  the  whole  law  hangs,  and  the  prophets." — Mat- 
thew xxii.  35-40. 

When  you  go  into  a  Church,  you  often  see  two  tablets 
on  the  Eastern  wall,  on  one  of  which  is  inscribed  "  The 
Belief,"  and  on  the  other,  "  The  Commandments."  The 
Belief  consists  of  what  is  called  "  The  Apostles'  Creed," 
though  the  Apostles  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  which 
begins,  "  I  believe  in  God  the  Father  Almighty,  Maker 
of  heaven  and  earth;"  and  the  Commandments  are  "the 
ten  words,"  or  precepts,  given  by  Moses.  Now,  per- 
sonally, you  may  have  no  difficulty  in  reciting  "  the 
Apostles'  Creed,"  or  even  that  forged  and  mistranslated 
clause  which  affirms  that  Christ  "  descended  into  Ac//." 
To  you,  as  to  me,  it  may  be,  when  rightly  rendered  and 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS.  89 

understood,  a  short  and  simple  summary  of  the  facts  of 
Christ's  life,  and  of  the  doctrines  which  are  most  heartily 
believed  among  us.  But,  simple  and  beautiful  as  it  is, 
we  have  no  right  to  impose  even  this  Creed  on  the 
consciences  of  men,  or  to  affirm  that,  unless  they  assent 
to  it,  they  cannot  be  saved.  We  may  believe  every 
word  of  it  ourselves  ;  but  we  have  no  right  to  make  our 
creed  a  public  standard  of  faith,  and  to  condemn  as 
many  as  reject  it.  The  Lord's  creed,  the  creed  which 
St.  Paul  received  from  Him,  and  taught  in  all  the 
churches,  is  far  simpler  than  "  the  Apostles'  creed."  It 
is  written  in  i  Corinthians  xv.  3,  4,  and  all  that  it 
demands  of  us  is  that  we  should  say  from  the  heart, 
"I  believe  that  Christ  both  died  for  our  sins,  and  rose 
again,  according  to  the  Scriptures,"  i.e.,  according  to 
the  will  of  God.  And,  therefore,  the  Apostles'  Creed, 
since  it  goes  beyond  that  of  Christ  Himself,  has  a  very 
questionable  claim  to  its  place  on  the  walls  of  the 
Church. 

And  what  possible  claim  have  the  Ilcbrciv  command- 
ments to  a  place  of  honour  and  authority  in  the  Christian 
Church  ?  One  of  them,  at  least,  the  law  of  the  Hcbrexu 
sabbath,  has  been  expressly  repudiated  by  St.  Paul,  and 
has  been  silently  renounced  by  all  who  profess  and  call 
themselves  Christians.  Most  of  the  other  command- 
ments have  been  adopted  into  the  law  of  the  land,  so 
that  to  keep  them  is  no  longer  a  distinctively  Christian 


90  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

confession.  A  man  is  not  a  Christian  because  he  does 
no  murder  and  commits  no  adultery,  because  he  neither 
steals  nor  covets  his  neighbour's  goods,  because  he 
makes  or  worships  no  graven  images,  or  even  because 
he  honours  his  father  and  his  mother.  And  still  less  is 
he  a  Christian  if  he  discharges  these  plain  duties  from 
the  self-regarding  Hebrew  motives,  that  it  may  be  well 
with  him  and  that  his  days  may  be  long  in  the  land. 
Christ  has  brought  in  a  new  and  more  spiritual  morality ; 
a  morality  of  principles,  not  of  rules  ;  a  morality  which 
is  not  imposed  upon  us  from  without,  but  which  works 
from  within  ;  a  morality  which  stands  a  whole  heaven 
above  that  of  the  Jews.  Their  morality  is  only  his 
ritualism  (James  i.  27). 

And  if  we  had  the  spirit  of  Christ,  if  we  were  bent  on 
drawing  all  men  into  his  Church  and  on  making  the 
Church  a  true  brotherhood,  we  should  carefully  discharge 
from  our  standards  of  faith  and  duty  all  that  is  not 
distinctively  Christian,  while  at  the  same  time  we  took 
pains  to  include  in  them  whatever  is  essential  to  the 
Christian  faith  and  life.  We  should  make  our  Creed  as 
simple,  and  as  short,  as  we  could,  that  it  might  find  the 
wider  acceptance.  We  should  state  the  Christian  duties 
as  simply,  and  as  briefly,  as  we  could,  that  no  man  who 
feared  God  and  wrought  righteousness,  might  be  alien- 
ated from  us.  Whereas,  as  things  go,  it  would  almost 
seem  that  those  who  organized  our  existing  Churches 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS.  91 

had  so  little  of  his  spirit  that  they  set  themselves,  not  to 
try  how  many  they  could  bring  in,  but  how  many  they 
could  shut  out.  Acknowledging  Christ  to  be  the  only 
source  of  authority  in  the  Church,  it  looks  as  if  they 
would  rather  go  to  any  one  than  to  Him  for  an  authori- 
tative statement  of  what  men  arc  to  believe  and  to  do. 
When  they  want  a  Creed,  they  go — where?  To  Christ, 
and  to  the  Apostles  who  had  most  of  his  spirit  ?  Nay, 
but  to  the  fathers  of  the  Greek  Church,  or  to  the  hair- 
splitting casuists  of  the  middle  ages.  They  do  not  go 
far  enough  back  for  their  creed.  And  when  they  want 
a  Code,  where  do  they  go  ?  To  Christ  Himself,  or  to 
his  Apostles?  No  ;  for  this  they  go  too  far  back,  right 
past  Christ  to  Moses,  as  he  stands  trembling  on  the 
trembling  Mount.  It  looks  as  though,  learn  of  whom 
else  they  would,  they  would  not  learn  of  Him  whom 
they  call  Master  and  Lord. 

And  yet,  if  only  wc  will  take  a  creed  and  a  law  from 
his  mouth,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  finding  them.  Mark 
how  simple  and  plain  the  case  is  with  the  Christian 
Creed.  Christ  Himself  habitually  demanded  that  men 
should  believe  on  Him.  With  one  voice  his  Apostles 
demanded  of  every  inquiring  soul,  "  Believe  on  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  But  to  believe 
in  Jesus,  is  to  believe  in  the  Saviour  from  sin  ;  for 
"Jesus"  means  "Saviour,"  To  believe  in  Christ  is  to 
believe  that  He  was  anointed,  or  ordained,  to  save,  by 


92  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

God  the  Father  ;  for  "  Christ  "  means  "  anointed,"  To 
believe  in  Him  as  the  Lordh  to  believe  that  God  was  in 
Him,  reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself;  for  "Lord" 
means  "  God."  Nay,  as  I  have  just  reminded  you,  in  his 
Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  St.  Paul  gives  us  a  formal 
creed  which  he  not  only  affirms  to  have  been  the  creed 
of  all  the  Apostolic  Churches,  but  which  he  expressly 
declares  that  he  "received"  directly  and  immediately 
from  the  Lord  Himself:  and  this  Creed  is,"  That  Christ 
died  for  our  sins,  and  that  he  rose  again,  according  to 
the  Scriptures,"  i.e.,  according  to  the  will  of  God  which 
the  Scriptures  reveal. i  So  that  the  Lord  Himself, 
through  the  Apostle  Paul,  offers  us  a  Creed,  the  Creed 
of  the  Christian  Church,  if  only  we  care  to  receive  it. 

Nor  is  the  case  any  less  plain  with  respect  to  the 
Christian  Commandments :  it  is  even  more  plain.  In 
my  text,  than  which  no  words  of  Christ  are  more 
familiar,  He  give  us  his  reading  of  the  Law  ;  He  tells 
us  what  He  held  to  be  essential  in  it.  First  of  all,  He 
reduces  the  ten  commandments  to  two  ;  then  He  makes 
a  disinterested  love  the  motive  of  both,  instead  of  self- 
interest,  which  was  the  Jewish  motive :  and,  finally,  He 
deliberately  affirms,  with  the  full  sanction  of  the  Hebrew 

'  Compare  with  this  Creed  St.  Paul's  definition  of  his  gospel  in 
Romans  x.  8,  9  :  "  The  word  of  faith  which  we  preach  is  that  if 
thou  shalt  con/ess  with  thy  mouth  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  sliaU  believe 
in  thy  heart  that  God  raised  him  from  the  dead,  thou  shalt  be 
saved." 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS.  93 

la\v)'cr.s  and  scribes  moreover,  that  within  the  sphere  cjf 
this  love  to  God  and  man  the  whole  law  han^^s  and 
swings,  and  not  the  law  only,  but  also  the  prophetic 
expositions  and  expansions  of  the  law. 

Here,  then,  we  have  the  simple  Creed  delivered  to  his 
servants  by  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  succinct  and 
spiritual  Code  to  which  He  reduced  the  tangled  and 
cumbrous  enactments  of  the  Hebrew  law.  And  if  any  of 
you  should  ever  build  a  Church,  retain  the  tablets  on  the 
wall  if  )ou  will ;  but  let  the  Belief  inscribed  on  them  be  : 
"  I  believe  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins,  and  rose  again, 
according  to  the  will  of  God  ; "  and  let  the  Command- 
ments be:  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind  ;  " 
and,  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself:"  for 
then  you  will  have  the  creed  of  Christ,  and  the  com- 
mandments of  Christ,  set  forth  as  the  standards  of  faith 
and  duty  in  the  House  dedicated  to  his  service  and 
called  by  his  name. 

But,  now,  let  us  look  at  these  Commandments  a  little 
more  closely,  and  inquire  what  they  mean. 

This  divine  summary  of  the  Divine  Law  was  uttered 
by  Christ  in  answer  to  a  question.  The  question  was 
asked  of  Him  by  a  lawyer,  />.,  a  man  whose  life  was 
devoted  to  the  study  and  exposition  of  the  law  as  given 
by  Moses,  this  law  being,  remember,  the  law  of  the  land, 
the  public  legal  code  of  the  Hebrew  race.     So  that  the 


94  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

lawyer  was  a  kind  of  Biblical  solicitor,  just  as  the  scribe 
was  "a  writer"  in  the  Scotch  sense.  Men  consulted  him 
as  to  whether  this  or  that  action  were  legal  and  allowed. 
They  brought  him  cases  of  conscience  and  difficult 
problems  of  interpretation,  consulting  him  on  their 
duties  and  their  rights,  just  as  any  one  of  us  might  go 
to  a  solicitor  and  ask  him  whether  or  not  the  statutes  of 
the  realm  would  bear  us  out  in  this  course  of  procedure 
or  that,  or  gave  us  a  remedy  for  this  or  that  wrong. 
Even  in  his  unprofessional  hours  and  moods  the  Hebrew 
lawyer  was  not  averse  "  to  moot  points,"  and  to  pose  less 
learned  persons  than  himself  with  questions  they  might 
find  it  hard  to  answer.  This  lawyer  thought  that  he 
would  pose  Jesus  who,  though  trained  in  no  school  of 
learning,  had  just  answered  the  questions  of  the  Herod- 
ians  and  Sadducees  so  wisely  as  to  astonish  all  who 
heard  Him.  And  so  he  asks  Him,  "  Rabbi,  which  is  the 
great  commandment  of  the  law?"  But  here  our  English 
very  imperfectly  renders  the  Greek.  The  word  rendered 
"  which"  means  far  more  than  "which."  What  the  lawyer 
really  asked  was,  "  Of  what  sort,  or  kind,  what  is  the 
quality,  character,  distinction,  of  that  commandment 
which  you  consider  to  be  the  greatest  ?  "  Or,  to  put  the 
puzzle  more  simply  and  broadly,  "  Which  do  you  hold 
to  be  the  best  commandment  in  the  Bible } "  And 
when  he  had  put  his  question,  I  dare  say  the  lawyer 
drew  himself  up,   and    nodded    shrewdly   at   his   com- 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS.  95 

panions,  as  who  should  say,  "  Let  him  answer  that  if 
he  can  !  " 

But  Jesus  can  answer  the  question,  and  does  answer  it, 
without  delay.  "The  best  commandment,"  lie  says, 
"  the  commandment  of  widest  reach  and  finest  quality,  is 
this  :  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  in  the  whole  of 
thy  heart,  and  in  the  whole  of  thy  soul,  and  in  the  whole 
of  thy  mind."  The  smile  of  expected  triumph  fades 
from  the  lawyer's  lips  as  he  listens.  He  has  met  his 
match,  and  far  more  than  his  match  ;  for  the  Lord  Jesus, 
giving  him  even  more  than  he  had  asked,  continues  : 
"  But  a  second  is  like  unto  it  ; "  i.e.,  "  there  is  another 
commandment  of  the  same  fine  quality,  the  same  pene- 
trating force,  the  same  broad  scope ;  and  it  is  this  : 
"  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself" 

Now  this  was  the  true  answer,  the  full  and  complete 
answer,  to  the  question,  as  the  lawyer  could  not  deny. 
For  his  catch  was  a  common  one  in  that  day,  and  the 
answer  of  Jesus  was  the  recognized  solution  of  it.  Long 
before  this  moment,  another  lawyer,  when  asked  by 
Christ,  "  What  is  written  in  the  law  ?  how  readest 
thou?"  had  replied,  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy 
God,  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with 
all  thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  thy  neigh- 
bour as  thyself"  (Luke  x.  25-27).  So  that  our  Lord's 
answer,  his.  solution  of  the  problem,  was  not  original  ; 
it   was  the  common  and   accepted   answer  among  the 


96  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

students  and  masters  of  the  law — as,  indeed,  this  master 
confesses  in  the  words,  "  Of  a  truth.  Teacher,  thou  hast 
well  said  "  (Mark  xii.  32,  33). 

The  only  wonder  to  those  who  heard  it  from  Christ's 
lips  was  how  He  came  to  know  it,  He  who  had  "  never 
learned,"  never  sat  at  the  feet  of  any  of  their  rabbis,  never 
passed  through  any  of  their  schools.  It  was  a  lawyer's 
puzzle  ;  and  as  He  was  not  a  lawyer,  they  expected  Him 
to  be  posed  by  it.  An  ordinary  layman  would  have  been 
posed  by  it.  For  neither  "the  first  and  great  command- 
ment," nor  "  the  second,  which  is  like  unto  it,"  was  con- 
tained in  the  Decalogue,  though  obedience  to  them  was 
far  "  more  than  all  whole  burnt-offerings  and  sacrifices." 
The  first,  that  which  enjoins  love  to  God,  is  only  given, 
incidentally,  in  a  summary  of  human  duty  contained  in 
Deuteronomy  (Chap.  vi.  5  ;  and  again,  Chap.  x.  12). 
The  second,  that  which  enjoins  love  for  our  neighbour, 
is  hidden  away  among  a  crowd  of  Levitical  enactments 
of  the  most  minute  and  burdensome  kind, — enactments 
as  to  how  corn  was  to  be  reaped  and  grapes  gathered,  on 
the  consideration  to  be  shewn  for  the  deaf  and  the  blind, 
on  not  sowing  different  kinds  of  seed  in  the  same  field, 
and  not  weaving  linen  and  woollen  yarns  into  the  same 
garment  (Leviticus  xix.  18).  It  took  some  knowledge  of 
the  law,  therefore,  to  find  these  two  commandments  at 
all,  and  much  knowledge  of  it,  and  much  spiritual  insight, 
to  discern  that  they  were  the  first  and  best  command- 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COM  yf A  MOMENTS.  97 

merits.  Had  the  question  been  put  to  most  Jews,  or 
perhaps  even  to  any  of  our  Lord's  disciples,  they  would 
in  all  probability  have  run  over  the  familiar  ten  com- 
mandments in  their  minds,  and  have  asked  themselves, 
"  Is  it  this,  or  this  ?  "  and  no  doubt  the  vast  majority  of 
them  would  have  settled  on  that  which  stands  first  on 
the  roll,  and  replied,  "  This  is  the  first  and  great  com- 
mandment. Hear,  O  Israel,  thou  shalt  have  no  other  gods 
before  me."  It  was  only  the  lawyers  who  would  have 
answered  the  question  as  Jesus  answered  it. 

But  though  they  would  have  used  his  words,  would 
they  have  used  them  in  the  same  sense  ?  They  would 
have  selected  the  same  two  commandments  for  special 
honour  ;  we  know  that  they  did  select  them  :  but  would 
they  have  seen  in  them  the  meaning  that  He  saw  ?  W'c 
know  that  they  would  not,  that  they  did  not.  To  them, 
this  answer  was  only  the  right  answer  to  a  legal  catch  ; 
to  Him,  it  was  the  supreme  fact  of  human  life.  For 
what  else  had  He  come  into  the  world  but  just  this  ? — 
To  induce  men,  by  revealing  God's  hearty  love  for  them 
all,  to  love  Him  with  all  their  hearts  and  their  neighbours 
as  themselves.  In  these  two  commandments.  He  affirms, 
hung  the  whole  law  and  the  prophets  ;  that  is  to  say, 
"  This  love  for  God  and  man  is  as  a  vast  orbit,  or  sphere, 
within  whose  ample  curve  the  whole  moral  law  swings, 
and  moves,  and  holds  its  course.  He  whose  thoughts, 
affections,  will,  life,  are  dominated  by  love  has,  in  this 
8 


98  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

love,  tliat  which  includes  all  that  the  law  of  Moses  was 
given  to  enjoin,  and  all  that  the  prophets  were  sent  to 
teach.  Within  the  orbit  of  love  the  whole  world  of  duty 
has  ample  verge.     He  who  has  this,  has  all." 

This,  in  brief,  was  what  Christ  meant  by  his  answer  to 
the  question.  But  though  the  lawyers  gave  precisely  the 
same  answer  to  it,  was  this  what  they  meant  by  the 
answer  ?  It  was  at  the  farthest  remove  from  what  they 
meant  by  it,  as  their  lives  proved,  and  the  occupation  on 
which  they  wasted  their  lives.  They  gave  themselves  to 
"  fencing,"  to  interpreting,  applying,  and  guarding  the 
cumbrous  system  of  enactments  by  which  Moses  had 
separated  the  Jews  from  other  races,  and  that  in  the 
most  formal,  technical,  and  exclusive  spirit.  They  were 
zealous  for  tradition.  They  overlaid  the  commandments 
with  a  mass  of  pedantic  details  which  grew  into  a  burden 
too  heavy  to  be  borne  by  any  living  conscience.  They 
sank  into  casuists.  They  sacrificed  morality  to  religion. 
Their  conscience  ran  to  leaf  instead  of  fruit.  Instead 
of  putting  love  first,  they  simply  make  it  impossible : 
for  how  could  a  man  love  the  God  who  was  for  ever 
tormenting  him  with  minute  rigorous  requirements  which 
made  his  life  a  burden  to  him  .-^  or  how  could  he  secure 
a  heart  at  leisure  from  itself  with  which  he  might  love 
his  neighbour  ? 

Obviously,  then,  although  the  lawyers  answered  the 
question,  "  Which  is  the  best  commandment  ?  "  as  Jesus 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS,  99 

answered  it,  tlicy  used  the  same  words  in  a  wholly 
different  sense.  They  were  puz^Jing  out  a  legal  riddle  ; 
lie  was  enunciating  the  supreme  law  of  human  life,  the 
law  by  which  lie  ruled  his  own  life  and  would  have  us 
rule  ours. 

And  is  it  not,  in  very  deed,  the  true  and  supreme  law  ? 
Arc  not  these  two  Commandments  of  the  finest  quality, 
of  the  most  subtle  spiritual  temper,  of  the  amplest  scope  ? 
Surely  it  is  reasonable  that  we  should  love  God,  our 
Maker,  Father,  Redeemer.  Surcl>'  it  is  reasonable  that, 
if  we  lov*t  Ilim  at  all,  we  should  love  Him  with  the  whole 
of  our  nature,  and  not  only  with  a  part  of  it,  in  the  whole 
of  our  heart,  and  of  our  soul,  and  of  our  mind.  And  if 
it  be  reasonable  to  love  Him  in  whom  we  live,  and  move, 
and  have  our  being,  it  is  also  reasonable  that  we  should 
love  one  another,  since  He  quickened  and  sustains  us 
all.  "  What  do  we  live  for,  if  it  be  not  to  make  life  less 
difficult  to  each  other  ?"  It  is  hard  enough  of  itself ;  we 
need  not  make  it  harder.  Do  we  not,  each  of  us,  crave 
love  for  himself?  and  can  we  hope  to  receive,  save  as  we 
give,  it  ?  Nay,  do  we  not,  each  one  of  us,  crave  to  hK\\ 
even  more  than  to  be  loved?  Is  it  not  even  more  neces- 
sary for  our  wellbeing  and  happiness  that  we  should  be 
saved  from  selfishness  by  having  the  fountain  of  love 
unsealed  within  us  than  that,  still  remaining  selfish,  we 
should  drink  of  the  pure  stream  which  fiows  from  a 
neighbour's  heart  ? 


loo  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

If  any  man  ask,  "  Why  does  Christ  lay  so  much  stress 
on  a  mere  sentiment,  or  emotion  ?  "  the  answer  is  clear 
and  plain.  Our  whole  life  is  ruled  by  sentiment ;  in  all 
we  do  we  are  prompted  by  some  passion  or  emotion. 
What  is  it  that  takes  you  to  your  daily  tasks,  and  makes 
you  diligent  in  discharging  them  ?  It  is  your  love  of 
gain,  or  of  a  good  reputation  ;  or  it  is  a  passionate  desire 
to  get  on  in  the  world,  to  rise,  to  win  the  respect  of 
men  ;  or  it  is  a  sense  of  duty  energized  by  love  for  your 
wife  and  children,  your  wish  to  provide  for  them  and  to 
give  them  all  they  require.  Sentiment,  emotion,  passion, 
is  the  motive-force,  the  driving-force,  of  human  life  ;  and 
therefore  Christ  lays  so  much  emphasis  upon  it,  and 
urges  us,  as  our  first  duty,  to  get  the  mainspring  of 
passion  right. 

If  any  man — a  little  weary  of  the  modern  cant  about 
charity — should  ask,  "  Why  does  Christ  lay  so  much 
stress  on  love  ?  why  does  He  declare  the  commandments 
which  enjoin  love  of  God  and  man  to  be  the  two  com- 
mandments which  include  all  others  ?  "  again  the  answer 
is  plain  and  clear.  Selfishness  is  the  root  and  essence  of 
ail  sin  ;  and  love  is  the  one  passion  that  can  conquer 
selfishness.  When  we  do  what  our  conscience  condemns, 
it  is  because  we  seek  thereby  to  advance  our  own 
interests,  or  supposed  interests,  or  because  we  want  to 
seize  what  we  take  for  pleasure.  We  set  up  our  own  will 
against  another  and  a  higher  Will.    That  is  to  say,  in  the 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS.  loi 

last  resort,  sin  is  always  selfishness,  the  selfishness  which 
defeats  itself.  Whenever  wc  do  wrong,  we  are  making 
self  our  centre — self-interest,  self-gratification,  self-love. 
This  base  passion  is  natural  to  us,  or  natural  to  that 
which  is  base  in  us  ;  and,  being  natural,  it  is  strong. 
The  one  passion  that  always  masters  it,  that  masters  it 
for  a  time  even  in  the  basest  and  most  grasping  natures, 
is  love.  It  is  of  the  very  essence  of  love  that  it  is  un- 
selfish, that  it  prefers  the  welfare,  the  gain,  or  the  pleasure, 
of  another  to  its  own. 

Love  seckcth  not  itself  to  please, 

Nor  for  itself  hath  any  care, 
But  for  another  yives  its  ease, 

And  builds  a  heaven  in  hell's  despair. 

It  is  only  lust,  that  base  and  sensual  counterfeit  of  love, 
which — 

seekcth  only  self  to  please, 
To  bind  another  to  its  delight, 
Joys  in  another's  loss  of  ease, 

And  builds  a  hell  in  heaven's  despite. 

And  hence  it  is  that  Christ  lays  so  much  stress  on  love, 
the  true  master-passion  of  the  soul.  As  selfishness  is  the 
root  of  all  sin,  so  love  is  the  root  of  all  nobleness  and 
virtue.  Christ  came  to  shift  the  centre  of  gravity  in  the 
human  soul,  to  move  and  raise  it  from  selfishness  to  love. 
Because  He  came  to  save  us  from  our  sins,  He  bids  us 
love — love  God  and  man — with  a  pure  and  undivided 
affection.      Within   this  golden  sphere,  He  affirms,  the 


I02  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

whole  law  to  be  hung,  so  that  he  who  possesses  himself 
of  love  possesses  himself  of  that  which  includes  the  whole 
duty  of  man. 

But  hozv^xQ.  we  to  be  won  to  this  pure  and  disinterested 
affection  ?  No  common  inducement  will  suffice.  Nor 
is  it  a  common  inducement  that  is  offered  us.  In  the 
person  of  Christ  God  Himself  became  man,  lived  our  life, 
bore  our  sorrows,  died  our  death,  took  away  our  sins,  and 
went  up  on  high  to  shed  down  his  pure  and  loving  spirit 
on  us,  and  to  prepare  a  place  for  us,  that  where  He  is 
there  we  may  be  also.  And  all  this  He  did  to  shew  how 
far  He  would  go,  how  much  He  would  do,  to  redeem  us 
from  our  miseries,  and  from  the  sins  from  which  our 
misery  springs. 

Now  if  that  be  true,  as  it  is,  have  we  not  abundant 
cause  to  cherish  a  love  for  God  the  domain  of  which 
shall  include  our  whole  heart,  our  whole  soul,  our  whole 
mind  ?  Can  we  go  too  far,  or  do  too  much,  for  Him  ? 
And  if  He  loved  men  even  more  than  lie  loved  Him- 
self, ought  not  zve  to  love  them  at  least  as  much  as  we 
love  ourselves  }  Must  we  not,  if  our  love  for  Him  be 
sincere .?  How  can  we  love  Him  with  an  utter  and 
unselfish  devotion,  and  not  love  those  who  are  so  dear 
to  Him,  who  have  never  wronged  us  as  they  have 
wronged  Him,  and  whose  faults  cannot  be  so  offensive 
to  us  as  they  arc  to  Him  ? 

Why  do  we  not  love  them  }     Because  they  do  not 


THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS.  103 

please  us  ;  because  they  offend  us  ;  perchance  because 
they  wronfT,  or  even  because  they  weary,  us.  That  is  to 
say,  we  are  still  thinking  of  ourselves.  Self  colours  all 
our  thoughts  of  our  neighbours,  and  all  the  emotions 
we  cherish  toward  them.  Love  has  not  }ct  conquered 
selfishness  in  us.  We  are  still  in  our  sins,  still  in  that  sel- 
fishness from  which  all  sin  springs.  The  very  moment  we 
consciously  cherish  a  repugnance  to  any  man,  or  cease  to 
fight  against  it,  we  may  know  that  our  love  of  God  is  not 
perfect.  See  how  those  in  whom  love  is  nearest  to  per- 
fection and  self  most  dead,  in  their  round  of  service  and 
devotion,  go  among  the  most  vicious  and  depraved,  the 
most  loathsome  and  neglected  of  their  neighbours.  See 
how  men  and  women  of  the  most  refined  culture  and 
habits  will  preside  over  the  casual  ward  of  a  workhouse, 
or  sponge  the  sores  of  hospital  patients,  or  grope  for  the 
wounded  amid  the  smoke  and  darkness  of  the  battle- 
field. Nay,  remember  how  Christ  Himself  went  about 
doing  good  among  the  lame,  the  blind,  the  paralyzed, 
the  leprous,  laying  his  hands  upon  them  at  times  with 
a  tender  caressing  love,  meeting  them  alwaj-s  with  a 
love  that  was  warm,  and  cordial,  and  sympathetic. 

When  you  would  know  how  you  should  love  God, 
what  is  meant  b}'  loving  Him  with  all  your  heart  and 
soul  and  mind,  remember  how  Christ  loved  Him,  so 
loved  Him  that  He  did  not  count  his  life  dear  if  only 
He  might  do  the  will  of  his  Father.     When  you  would 


104  THE  CHRISTIAN  COMMANDMENTS. 

know  how  you  should  love  your  neighbour,  and  what  is 
meant  by  loving  him  as  yourself,  do  not  listen  to  theo- 
logians and  moralists,  with  their  fine-spun  distinctions 
between  "  the  love  of  complacency  "  and  "  the  love  of 
benevolence,"  but  remember  Christ ;  remember  that  you 
have  seen  Him  caressing  a  little  child,  leading  a  blind 
man  by  the  hand,  becoming  a  leper  by  touching  a  leper; 
remember  that  you  have  heard  Him  accost  a  stranger 
as  a  friend,  and  bless  the  harlot  who  wept  at  his  feet, 
and  sit  at  meat  with  publicans  and  sinners  who  had 
been  driven  out  of  the  Synagogue  with  stripes.  And 
let  the  love  that  wrought  in  Him  be  in  you,  and  work 
in  you  as  it  wrought  in  Him,  so  that  you  too  shall  not 
count  your  lives  dear  unto  you  in  the  service  of  God, 
and  shall  see  in  every  man,  however  degraded  or 
offensive,  a  brother  and  a  friend. 


an 


VIII. 
THE    GOSPEL    OF  RETRIBUTION. 

"And  I  saw  another  anfjcl  flyin}^  in  mid-heaven,  havin 
eternal  gospel  to  proclaim  to  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth,  and 
unto  every  nation  and  tribe  and  tongue  and  people  ;  and  he  saith 
with  a  great  voice.  Fear  (iod,  and  give  him  glory  ;  for  the  hour  of 
his  judgment  is  come:  and  worship  him  that  made  the  heaven  and 
the  earth,  and  sea  and  fountains  of  waters.'' — Rlvelation  xiv.6,  7. 

St.  John  was  not  a  prophet  in  the  ancient  and  the 
vulgar  sense  ;  he  was  not  a  mere  seer  of  coming  events, 
a  mere  student  and  interpreter  of  the  shadows  they  cast 
before  them  ;  but  a  wise  and  holy  man  who  had  a  keen 
and  trained  insight  into  the  moral  laws  by  which  God 
governs  the  world,  and  so  heartily  believed  in  these  laws 
as  to  be  quite  sure  that  in  the  ethical,  as  in  the  physical, 
world  efTccts  spring  from  causes  and  correspond  to 
them,  that  actions  are  inwiriably  followed  b}-  their  due 
consequences  and  rewards.  And,  hence,  the  ApocaU-pse 
of  St.  John  is  not  a  series  of  forecasts,  predicting  the 
political  weather  of  the  world  through  the  ages  of 
liistor}'  ;  it  is  rather  a  scries  of  symbols  and  visions  in 
which   the  universal  principles  of  the  Divine  Rule  arc 


lo6  THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 

set  forth  in  forms  dear  to  the  heart  of  a  Hebrew  mystic 
and  poet. 

What  is  most  valuable  to  us  in  this  Book,  therefore, 
is  not  the  letter,  the  form,  not  the  vials,  the  seals,  the 
trumpets,  over  which  interpreters,  who  play  the  seer 
rather  than  the  prophet,  have  been  wrangling  and  per- 
plexing their  brains  for  centuries,  but  the  large  general 
principles  which  these  mystic  symbols  of  Oriental 
thought  are  apt  to  conceal  from  a  Western  mind. 
Whether  or  not,  for  example,  this  vision  of  an  angel 
flying  through  heaven  to  proclaim  an  impending  judg- 
ment was  taken  by  St.  John's  first  readers  to  indicate 
an  approaching  event  of  world-wide  moment,  is  a  ques- 
tion of  comparatively  slight  importance  to  us ;  it  is, 
indeed,  mainly  a  question  of  curious  antiquarian  in- 
terest. But  that  a  Divine  judgment  impends  over  all 
the  actions  and  generations  of  men  ;  that  the  hour  of 
judgment  is  sure  to  strike  at  the  due  moment,  let  men 
play  what  tricks  they  will  with  the  hands  of  the  clock, 
and  sure  to  be  heard  over  all  the  world,  let  men  close, 
their  ears  as  they  will  :  that  this  fact  of  impending  and 
inevitable  judgment  is  an  eternal,  or  a:onial,  Gospd, 
veritable  good  tidings  of  great  joy  to  every  nation  and 
tribe,  tongue  and  people — all  this  is  at  once  of  supreme 
importance  and  supreme  interest.  A  gospel  for  all  men, 
in  all  ages,  must  be  a  gospel  for  us.  A  gospel  weighted 
t)y  no  miracles  and  no  dogmas  ;  a  gospel  which  is  open 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION.  107 

to  no  question  and  no  doubt,  but  is  felt  to  be  true 
always,  and  cverywlicre,  and  by  all ;  a  gospel  which  science 
and  experience  and  conscience  proclaim  as  earnestly  as 
any  other  anc^els,  or  messengers  and  ministers,  of  God  ; 
a  gospel  which  throws  an  interpreting,  reconciling,  and 
healing  light  on  the  darkest  sorrows  and  deepest  wounds 
of  the  human  heart,  must  surely  be  the  very  gospel 
which  many  stricken  and  wandering  souls  are  now 
seeking,  and  to  which  even  the  most  worldly  and  indif- 
ferent must  listen  not  with  interest  alone,  but  with  lively 
curiosity  and  some  faint  stirrings  of  expectation  and 
hope. 

I.  What,  then,  is  this  Gospel  ?  It  is  the  gospd  of 
retribution  ;  we  are  to  fear  and  glorify  God  because  the 
hour  of  his  judgment  is  covie.  This  is  the  truth  which 
the  angel  fl}'ing  in  mid-heaven,  between  God  and  man, 
proclaims  to-day,  and  always  has  proclaimed,  and 
alwa}-s  will  proclaim.  This  is  the  truth  which  St. 
John  calls  "an  eternal  gospel" — not  the  gospel,  and 
still  less  the  only  gospel,  but  still  a  veritable  gospel, 
glad   tidings  of  great  joy,  to  us  and  to  all  mankind. 

Are  you  disappointed?  Do  you  say:  "That  is  true 
enough,  no  doubt.  Sooner  or  later  the  actions  of  men 
do  round  upon  them  in  the  strangest  way.  A  man  may 
as  soon  jump  off  his  own  shadow  as  evade  the  con- 
sequences of  his  own  deeds.  Mis  sins  find  him  out,  let 
him  hide  himself  where  he  will,  and  though  he  run  to 


io8  THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 

the  ends  of  the  earth.  Even  when,  for  a  time,  they 
bring  no  outward  visible  punishment,  they  strike  inward, 
and  inflict  the  most  fatal  punishment  upon  him,  in  the 
deterioration  of  his  own  character,  in  the  fears  they 
breed,  in  his  polluted  memory,  in  his  growing  aptitude 
for  evil,  in  the  desires  they  excite,  in  the  habits  they 
confirm,  in  his  gathering  indifference  to  that  which  is 
pure  and  good  and  fair.  But  we  need  no  apostle,  no 
angel  out  of  heaven,  to  teach  us  that.  Our  poets,  our 
moralists,  our  philosophers,  our  very  novelists,  have  long 
sung  in  that  key.  And  our  own  hearts,  our  consciences, 
our  experience  of  life,  have  taken  up  and  swelled  the 
strain.  We  need  no  further  witness  to  the  fact  of  Re- 
tribution. But  there  is  no  gospel  in  the  fact.  It  brings 
no  good  tidings  to  us,  but  rather  tidings  of  despair.  A 
gospel  of  Redemption  would  be  good  news  indeed,  if  it 
could  possibly  be  true  ;  but  a  gospel  of  Retribution  is 
a  mere  contradiction  in  terms," 

If  in  these  words  I  have  at  all  fairly  described  your 
attitude  as  you  listen  to  my  text  and  ponder  over  it, 
permit  me,  in  reply,  to  ask  :  Have  you,  then,  learned  the 
lesson  which  so  many  teachers  have  impressed  on  you, 
so  learned  it  as  to  walk  by  it }  Do  you  attune  your  life 
to  the  strain  they  have  sung  }  Are  you  so  sure  that 
every  man  must  receive  according  to  his  deeds  that  you 
have  made  your  ways  and  doings  good,  that  you  dread 
and  resist  every  temptation   to  do  evil  ?     You  respect 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIDUTIOiW.  109 

and  observe  the  law  of  gravity  because  you  are  quite 
sure  that  it  is  a  law.  Do  you  shew  an  equal  respect  for 
the  law  of  retribution  ?  If  not,  many  as  have  been  your 
teachers,  you  may  still  need  to  have  the  law  enforced 
upon  you,  and  neither  angel  nor  apostle  is  wasting  the 
time  and  energy  which  he  expends  in  teaching  you  what 
you  still  need  to  learn. 

Consider,  again  :  if  the  laiv  of  retribution  is  familiar 
to  you,  is  it  nothing  to  you  to  be  assured,  and  assured 
on  the  highest  authority,  that  what  you  admit  to  be 
a  law  is  also  a  gospel?  When  we  are  told  that  God's 
judgments  on  sin  are  an  eternal  gospel,  a  gospel  for  all 
beings  in  all  ages,  what  is  implied  ?  TJiis  is  implied — 
and  there  is  no  truth  more  precious  or  more  practical  — 
that  the  judgments  of  God  are  corrective,  disciplinary, 
redemptive  ;  that  they  are  designed  to  turn  us  away 
from  the  sins  by  which  they  are  provoked  ;  that  the 
message  they  bring  us,  and  bring  from  Heaven,  is, 
"  Cease  to  do  evil,  learn  to  do  well." 

Nothing  can  be  more  wholesome  for  us,  and  no  truer 
or  nobler  comfort  can  be  given  us,  when  we  are  suffering 
the  painful  consequences  of  our  evil  deeds,  than  the 
assurance  that  these  retributions  are  intended  for  our 
good  ;  not  to  injure  or  destroy  us,  but  to  quicken  life 
in  us,  or  the  godly  sorrow  which  workcth  life.  Nothing 
can  be  more  wholesome  or  consolatory  than  the  convic- 
tion that  the  law  which  makes  punishment  the  other 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 


half  of  sin  was  designed  in  love  and  mercy,  not  in  anger 
and  vengeance.  And,  surely,  up  to  a  certain  point  at 
least,  we  can  see  that  this  law  is  a  good  law,  deterring  us 
from  evil,  driving  and  inviting  us  toward  that  which  is 
good.  If  the  links  w^hich  bind  pain  and  loss  to  wrong- 
doing were  broken,  if.  suffering  did  not  wait  on  sin, 
should  we  be  the  better  and  the  happier  for  it,  the 
stronger  against  temptation,  the  more  resolute  in  our 
pursuit  of  goodness  ?  Would  the  world  be  the  better 
or  the  happier  for  it  ?  But  if  the  law  work  good,  it  is 
good  ;  i.e.,  it  is  a  gospel  as  well  as  a  law.  If  it  would  be 
bad  news  that  the  law  was  to  be  repealed,  it  must  be 
good  news  that  it  is  to  stand  fast  for  ever,  that  God 
always  has,  and  always  will,  judge  men  after  their  deeds 
and  reward  them  according  to  their  ways. 

That  there  is  much  in  the  operation  of  this  law  which 
as  yet  we  cannot  fathom,  or  cannot  prove  to  be  good, 
must  be  admitted.  One  man's  guilt  is  another  man's 
loss  or  pain.  We  often  suffer  as  much  from  our  igno- 
rance as  from  our  sins.  The  best  people  often  have  the 
hardest  life.  And  here,  as  we  cannot  walk  by  sight,  we 
must  walk  by  faith.  The  only  question  is  in  zuhich  faith 
we  will  walk  ;  in  the  belief  that  God  is  unjust  and 
unmerciful,  or  in  the  belief  that  these  unprovoked  or 
undeserved  sufferings  are  also  intended  for  our  good, 
that  there  is  that  in  them  to  thank  God  for  as  well  as 
that  which  we   cannot   but   fear.     St.  John    elects  the 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 


nobler  allernativc.  Witli  him,  judgment  is  always  mercy, 
and  suffering,  since  it  is  a  discipline  in  holiness  and 
l)erfcction,  a  call  to  thanksgiving  and  joy.  Retribution 
is  a  gospel,  an  eternal  gospel,  to  him,  because  it  is 
medicinal  and  redemptive,  because  it  either  corrects 
that  which  is  evil  in  us,  or  because  it  is  a  discipline  by 
which  we  are  prepared  for  larger  good. 

2.  But  this  mystery  of  unprovoked  or  disproportionate 
suffering  may  grow  clearer  to  us  as  we  consider  that,  in 
his  eternal  gospel,  St.  John  includes  not  only  present, 
but  also  future,  judgments.  The  angel  is  always  pro- 
claiming judgment,  but  he  also  proclaims  "hours"  of 
judgment,  crises  in  which  the  whole  story  of  a  life,  a 
race,  or  an  age,  is  summed  up,  and  finally  adjusted  by 
an  unerring  standard.  Such  an  hour  was  then  at  hand. 
Such  an  hour  is  never  far  off  from  any  one  of  us.  The 
minutes  may  pass  silently  on  the  great  clock  of  Time, 
but  the  hours  strike ;  and  when  the  last  hour  strikes, 
whether  for  us  individually  or  for  the  world  at  large, 
there  is  to  be  a  great  clearing  up,  a  great  adjustment 
and  readjustment  of  accounts. 

No  fact,  no  truth,  proclaimed  by  Christ,  and  by  his 
angels  or  messengers, has  been  in\esLed  with  more  awful 
terrors  than  this  of  the  last  judgment — the  last,  or  at 
least  the  last  for  us,  the  judgment  which  closes  this 
earthly  span.  And,  to  flesh  and  blood,  it  must  always 
be  full  of  terror.     Faith  itself  must  always  contemplate 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 


it  with  a  certain  awe.  For  though,  to  the  eye  of  reason, 
"  the  last  judgment  "  is  simply  a  solemn  and  picturesque 
symbol  of  the  fact,  that  the  law  of  retribution  will  be  as 
efficient,  and  perhaps  more  obviously  efficient  in  the 
world  to  come  than  it  is  in  this  world,  yet  even  reason 
herself  must  admit  that  the  start  we  make  in  any  world 
goes  far  to  determine  our  course  in  it  and  our  lot ;  while 
faith  discerns  issues  of  life  and  death  depending  on  that 
judgment,  and  trembles  under  the  burden  of  an  eternal, 
or  agelong,  doom. 

However  carefully  we  may  have  studied  the  New 
Testament,  then,  and  however  large  may  be  our  trust  in 
the  mercy  of  God,  it  can  hardly  fail  to  strike  us  with 
surprise  that  this  future  judgment,  which  the  Church  has 
depicted  in  the  darkest  hues,  should  be  spoken  of  as  a 
"  gospel,"  a  gospel  for  all  men  and  for  all  ages,  and  that 
we  should  be  invited  to  look  forward  to  it  with  thanks- 
giving as  well  as  with  awe.  And  yet  there  are  consider- 
ations which  may  well  abate  our  surprise. 

For,  with  all  his  fear  of  judgment,  there  is  a  deep 
craving  for  justice,  in  every  man's  heart,  and  a  profound 
conviction  that,  in  some  respects  at  least,  he  has  never 
had  it,  or  never  had  it  to  the  full.  His  neighbours  have 
wronged  him.  He  has  had  to  suffer  for  their  folly,  their 
extravagance,  their  crimes,  their  sins.  His  actions  have 
been  misrepresented,  his  motives  misconstrued.  Or  he 
has  been  weighted  from  the  first  with  some  hereditary 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION.  113 

bias,  or  some  defect  of  person  or  manner,  so  tint  he 
could  never  shew  himself  for  what  he  is,  and  win  the 
respect  and  love  he  craved.  Or  circumstances  have  been 
against  him;  and  he  has  never  been  able  to  get  the 
culture  he  longed  for  and  prized,  or  to  use  it  to  any 
purpose  when  he  had  got  it,  or  to  do  half  the  liberal, 
honourable,  and  kindly  things  his  heart  devised.  Poverty, 
drudgery,  grief,  and  care,  have  exhausted  him,  leaving 
him  no  leisure  and  no  force  for  pursuing  the  loftier  aims 
of  life.  Or  he  has  been  unfortunate  in  the  relationships 
he  has  formed,  and  found  them  a  burden  instead  of  a 
help.  Or  he  has  been  compelled  to  adopt  a  calling  for 
which  he  has  no  liking,  and  which  does  not  give  scope 
for  half  his  powers.  Or  when  all  was  well  with  him,  a 
killing  frost  suddenly  fell  on  him  in  the  summer  of  his 
days — his  health  failed  him,  his  business  fell  awa)',  his 
reputation  was  cruelly  assailed,  or  the  light  of  his  home 
and  heart  was  put  out. 

As  )'0U  all  know,  as  some  of  you  ma\-  know  only  too 
well,  there  are  men  who,  in  a  thousand  different  ways, 
have  been  crippled,  hampered,  thwarted,  defeated  in  the 
race  of  life,  who  have  never  had  a  fair  chance,  whose 
hearts  have  been  shaken  and  soured  by  the  accidents 
and  changes  of  time  ;  men  to  whom  life  has  grown  to 
be  a  perplexity,  a  muddle,  if  not  a  despair,  so  that  they 
can  very  hardly  hold  fast  their  faith  in  the  Providence 
which  shapes  our  ends  for  us,  roughhcw  or  mishew  them 
9 


114  THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 

how  we  will.  And  if  to  any  of  these  sufferers  from 
misfortune  or  injustice,  sitting  in  darkness  and  asking, 
•'  What  does  it  all  mean  ? "  you  could  say,  and  say  with 
conviction  and  authority  :  "  It  means  that  the  end  is  not 
yet;  but  the  end  is  coming.  God  will  yet  do  you  ample 
justice,  redress  all  your  wrongs,  compensate  you  for  all 
your  losses,  turn  all  your  sorrows  into  joy,  make  you 
what  you  would  be,  and  enable  you  to  do  and  to  get  all 
you  crave:" — would  not  such  a  message  be  a  true  gospel 
to  him  ?  If  he  could  believe  it,  would  it  not  be  to  him 
as  life  from  the  dead  ?  Would  he  be  slow  to  give  glory 
unto  God  ? 

Nay,  is  there  not  something  in  this  gospel  which 
attracts  us  all  ?  Surely  most  of  us  feel  that,  owing 
to  lack  of  opportunity  and  favourable  conditions,  we 
have  not  been  able  to  do  justice  to  ourselves,  to 
what  is  best,  tenderest,  finest,  shyest,  in  ourselves  ;  or 
that  we  have  been  unjustly  handled — misunderstood, 
undervalued,  disliked,  wronged — by  some  of  our  fellows, 
and  even  by  some  who  would  have  loved  and  aided 
us  had  they  known  us  as  we  are.  And  is  it  not  good 
news  that  when  we  pass  from  the  hasty  censures  of 
a  busy  and  careless,  if  not  a  cruel,  world,  we  shall  be 
weighed  in  finer  scales  and  a  truer  balance?  that  our 
most  inward  and  delicate  motives  will  be  taken  into 
account,  as  well  as  the  blundering  actions  which  so  ill 
expressed  them,  by  One  who  knows  us  altogether,  and 
reads  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart  ? 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRUiUTION.  115 

Fear  God,  then,  and  give  Him  glory,  for  the  hour  of 
his  judgment  is  coming,  and  is  nigh.  You  cannot  help 
but  fear  Him,  indeed  ;  for  his  pure  eyes  must  discern 
much  evil  in  you  which  you  have  failed  to  detect;  and 
at  his  bar  you  will  have  to  answer  for  your  injustice  to 
your  neighbours,  for  the  wrongs  you  have  done  them, 
for  your  misconstructions  of  their  characters,  their  actions, 
their  motives.  When  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are  disclosed, 
you  will  find  that  much  which  you  resented  in  them  as 
unkind  or  unjust  was  not,  or  was  not  meant  to  be,  either 
unjust  or  unkind  :  and  you  may  discover  that  }X)U  have 
failed  in  your  duty  to  them  quite  as  often  as  they  have 
failed  in  their  duty  to  you.  You  are  sure  to  discover 
that  in  many  different  ways  you  have  failed  in  your  duty 
to  their  God  and  yours,  and  that  by  your  sins  against 
Him  you  have  wronged  your  own  souls  even  more 
deeply  than  any  of  }'our  neighbours  have  been  able  to 
wrong  you.  But,  according  to  St.  John,  with  fear  or 
reverence  we  are  to  blend  thanksgiving.  According  to 
him.  Retribution  is  a  gospel  as  well  as  a  law,  and  we  arc 
to  give  glory  to  God  even  as  we  advance  toward  his 
judgment-seat  And  how  could  we  do  that  if  we  did 
not  believe  that,  as  in  this  world,  so  also  in  the  world  to 
come,  judgment  will  be  mercy,  and  that  all  the  punish- 
ments of  sin  will  be  designed  for  our  correction,  for  our 
redemption  from  the  bondage  of  evil  ?  How  should 
either  an  apostle,  or  an  angel,  bid  us  bless  God  for  the 


ii6  THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 

hour  of  judgment  as  for  a  gospel,  if  there  were  no  mercy, 
no  hope,  no  blessing  in  it  ? 

3.  This  gospel  is  an  eternal,  or  universal,  gospel,  a 
gospel  for  all  ages,  for  all  men.  It  is  proclaimed  unto 
"  every  nation  and  tribe,  and  tongue  and  people."  And 
here,  surely,  we  may  find  a  theme  for  praise.  The  world 
is  full  of  injustice,  full  of  misery.  Think  what  men 
suffer,  and  have  always  suffered,  from  the  tyranny,  of 
their  rulers,  from  the  follies  and  crimes  of  statesmen,  from 
unwise  laws  or  a  partial  and  imperfect  administration  of 
law,  from  war,  vice,  bigotry,  superstition.  Or  think  only 
of  what  you  see  immediately  around  you,  in  the  little 
circle  of  which  you  form  part.  Think  of  the  fair  young 
lives,  full  of  promise,  which  you  have  seen  suddenly 
broken  off;  of  strong  men  stricken  down  into  helplessness 
in  a  moment,  of  good  women  pining  away  in  penury  or 
wasting  with  disease,  of  honest  industrious  men  disgraced 
by  failure  or  reduced  to  want.  Think  of  the  fond  parents 
who  have  lost  their  children,  of  the  tender  children  who 
have  been  left  to  battle  alone  with  a  hard  indifferent 
world,  of  loving  husbands  and  wives  separated  by  the 
stroke  of  death.  And  as  you  think  of  these  common 
events,  events  as  common  in  every  other  circle  as  in  your 
own,  what  a  gospel  is  this  which  the  angel,  flying  in  mid- 
heaven,  proclaims  with  a  great  voice  ?  "  This  world  is 
not  all.  It  is  not  the  end,  but  only  the  beginning  ;  and 
the  beginnings  of  life  are  always  obscure  and  mysterious. 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION.  117 

The  hour  of  judgment  is  coming,  in  wliich  the  mystery 
will  be  explained  and  vindicated  ;  in  which  God  will 
redress  every  wrong,  compensate  every  loss,  reunite  all 
sundered  hearts,  give  scope  for  all  lives  which  .have 
been  stunted  and  broken  off  to  develop  into  their  full 
beauty  and  perfection,  find  better  wbrk  for  those  to  do 
who  have  been  cut  off  in  a  career  of  usefulness,  and  by 
the  very  punishments  which  his  justice  inflicts  correct 
and  redeem  those  who  have  suffered  this  world  to  be 
too  much  with  them." 

Take  the  world  as  it  is,  cut  it  off  from  the  great  astro- 
nomical system  of  which  it  forms  part,  and  it  is  a 
mystery  which  none  can  fathom.  And  take  human  life 
as  it  is,  as  a  story  without  a  sequel,  and  you  can  only 
give  it  up  as  an  insoluble  problem,  a  mighty  maze  with- 
out a  plan.  But  listen  to  this  Gospel  of  Retribution, 
connect  this  world  with  the  world,  or  worlds,  in  heaven, 
regard  the  present  life  as  an  introduction  to,  a  discipline 
for,  a  larger  happier  life  to  come,  and  )Our  burden  is 
eased  ;  the  problem  becomes  capable  cf  a  happy  solu- 
tion. If  you  must  still  fear  God,  you  can  also  give  Him 
glory  because  the  hour  of  his  judgment  is  coming,  the 
hour  at  which  He  will  gather  the  whole  world  under  his 
rule,  and  all  nations  and  tribes,  and  tongues  and  peoples, 
shall  become  his  people  and  know  Him  for  their  God. 

That  this  law  of  Retribution  has  another  aspect,  that 
the  justice  of  God  must  be  full  of  terror  for  as  many  as 


ii8  THE  GOSPEL  OF  RETRIBUTION. 

cleave  to  their  sins  and  will  not  let  them  go,  none  of  us 
who  worship  here  are  likely  to  forget.^  But  this  aspect 
is  not  set  before  us  in  the  text.  Here  we  have  only  to 
do  with  the  gospel  in  the  law  of  Retribution.  Let  it  be 
enough  for  the  present,  then,  if  this  gospel  has  been  pro- 
claimed, and  if  we  have  found  in  it  good  tidings  of  great 
joy  to  all  who  dwell  upon  the  earth. 

'  On  Retribution  viewed  as  a  Law  see  Discourses  2,  9,  12,  in 
Volume  I. 


IX. 

THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER, 

I.— BE  CLEAN  ! 

''And  there  cometli  to  him  a  leper,  beseeching  him.and  kneeling 
down  to  him,  and  saying  unto  him,  If  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make 
me  clean.  And  being  moved  with  compassion,  he  stretched  forth 
his  hand,  and  touched  him,  and  saith  unto  him,  1  will,  be  thou 
made  clean.  And  straightway  the  leprosy  departed  from  him,  and 
he  was  made  clean." — Mark.  i.  40-42. 

Amonci  the  Jews  no  leper  was  allowed  to  enter  the 
Sanctuary,  or  to  mix  with  his  healthy  neighbours,  or  so 
much  as  to  live  within  the  city  walls.  He  was  wholly 
cut  off  from  the  sweet  uses  and  charities  of  life,  a  banned, 
and  often  a  solitary,  outcast.  According  to  the  Mosaic 
law,  he  was  bound  to  dwell  without  the  camp,  alone,  to 
go  with  bare  head  and  torn  garments,  and  to  warn  off 
any  who  approached  him  by  crying  out,  "  Unclean, 
unclean  ! " 

Surely  a  very  cruel  law  ;  for  leprosy  is  not  contagious, 
though  it  may  be  transmitted  from  father  to  son.  Nor 
is  there  any  reason  to  suppose  that  Moses  thought  it 


120  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

contagious,  that  his  law  was  intended  as  a  sanitary  pre- 
caution. For,  outside  Judca,  the  leper  was  not  separated 
from  his  neighbours,  nor  even  held  to  be  incapable  of 
holding  high  offices  of  State.  Naaman,  the  leper,  com- 
manded" the  armies  of  Syria,  and  the  King  of  Syria 
worshipped  leaning  on  his  arm.  In  almost  every  other 
Eastern  land  lepers  ate  at  the  public  table,  and  were 
admitted  to  the  public  service.  And  even  in  Judea  the 
foreign  leper  was  expressly  excluded  from  the  scope  of 
the  Mosaic  law,  and  even  the  native  leper  was  freely 
handled  by  the  priests,  whose  duty  it  was  to  examine 
and  to  pronounce  upon  his  case. 

I.  But  if  this  law  was  not  a  sanitary  precaution,  What 
was  it  ?  It  was  a  living  s}inbolism,  an  acted  parable. 
It  was  one  of  many  illustrations  of  a  principle  which 
pervades  the  whole  Mosaic  Code.  According  to  that 
code,  whatever  spoke  of  death  spoke  of  sin  ;  whatever 
was  related  to  death — as  a  grave,  a  bier,  a  corpse,  and 
even  the  appliances  of  a  sick  bed — was  ceremonially  un- 
clean :  to  touch  it  was  to  become  unclean.  Logically 
carried  out,  the  principle  involved  the  uncleanncss  of 
every  kind  of  disease  to  which  man  is  liable.  But  in  his 
mercy  God  selected  one  form  of  disease,  one  out  of 
many,  and  stamped  this  as  unclean,  as  unfitting  men  for 
the  society  of  a  holy  people  and  the  services  of  a  holy 
place,  that  He  might  thus  mark  his  abhorrence  of  all  the 
forms  which  bear  witness  to  the  power  of  death  and  sin. 


BE  CLEAN! 


Just  as  He  set  apart  one  meal  to  sanctify  all  meals,  and 
one  day  to  hallow  every  day  ;  just  as  He  took  the  first- 
fruits  to  assert  his  claim  to  the  entire  harvest,  and  the 
firstborn  to  assert  his  claim  to  the  entire  family,  so  also 
He  selected  one  disease  for  a  public  condemnation  in 
order  to  disclose  his  anger  against  that  root  of  evil  from 
which  all  diseases  spring. 

And,  as  might  have  been  expected,  He  chose  for  this 
purpose  one  of  the  most  frightful  and  loathsome  forms  of 
disease.  Leprosy  was  a  living  death.  It  was  a  gradual 
and  horrible  dissolution,  the  body  rotting  out  of  the 
grave  instead  of  in  it.  And  it  was  wrapt  in  a  mystery 
which  made  it  still  more  dreadful.  No  man  could  tell 
how,  or  why,  it  came  ;  it  was  whoU}'  bej-ond  the  reach  of 
medical  science  and  art.  When  the  King  of  Damascus 
sent  Naaman  to  the  Jewish  king  for  cure,  Joram  was 
dismayed  and  cried  out,  "Am  I  X]od,  to  kill  and  to  make 
alive,  that  this  man  doth  send  unto  me  to  recover  a  man 
from  his  leprosy?"  In  that  age  at  least  it  seemed  as 
impossible  to  cure  a  Itpcr  as  to  quicken  life  in  the 
dead. 

The  leper,  then,  bearing  about  in  himself  the  outward 
signs  of  human  guilt,  though  not  necessarily  of  his  own 
guilt,  was  a  living  and  ghastly  parable  of  the  death  which 
Sin,  when  it  is  mature,  brings  forth.  With  bare  head,  and 
rent  garments,  garments  rent  as  for  one  dead,  and  raising 
his  mournful  cry,  "  Unclean,"  unclean  !  "  as  often  as  he 


12?  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

approached  the  haunts  of  men,  he  mourned  for  himself 
as  one  already  cut  off  from  the  land  of  the  living.  He 
was  cut  off  from  life,  however  great  his  gifts,  however 
lofty  his  position.  Even  Miriam  the  prophetess,  even 
Uzziah  the  valiant  and  sagacious  king,  were  shut  out 
from  camp  and  city.  So  impressively  were  the  Jews 
taught — and  we  are  taught  through  them — that  sin 
worketh  death,  and  that  the  death  of  sin  excludes  men 
from  the  pure  and  happy  kingdom  of  God. 

The  law,  I  said,  was  a  cruel  law.  Does  it  look  more 
merciful  now,  now  that  we  know  that  it  was  not  meant 
for  a  sanitary  precaution,  but  for  a  religious  parable?  Is 
it  like  God,  and  his  mercy,  thus  heavily  to  afflict  one 
man  fbr  the  instruction,  for  the  good,  of  his  neighbours  } 

Well,  yes  ;  I  think  it  is.  Vicarious  suffering  is  a 
common,  a  universal,  law  of  human  life.  We  suffer  for 
the  sins  of  our  fathers,  of  our  children,  of  our  statesmen 
and  rulers,  of  our  customers  and  servants,  and  even  for 
the  sins  of  those  of  our  neighbours  with  whom  we  have 
no  special  and  intimate  relation.  In  a  sense  far  closer 
and  other  than  the  Roman  meant,  "  Nothing  human  is 
alien  to  us."  If  for,  and  by,  the  sins  of  men  a  war  is 
waged  in  France,  in  Germany,  in  America,  in  India,  or 
even  in  some  small  island  of  a  distant  sea,  we  here  in 
England  suffer  from  it,  and  suffer  just  where  some  of  us 
are  most  keenly  sensitive,  in  the  pocket.  Is  it  not  hard 
that  we  should  suffer  for  sins  not  our  own,  when  wc  have 


BE  CLEAN/  123 


so  many  of  our  own  for  which  to  suffer  ?  It  is  hard  ;  but 
it  may  be  very  wholesome  for  us  nevertheless.  liy  suffer- 
ing for  the  sins  of  others,  we  may  be  delivered  from  our 
own  sins.  W'e  may  be  taught  to  hate  and  renounce 
them  ;  and  it  is  worth  while  to  suffer  if,  by  suffering,  we 
may  be  redeemed  from  the  power  and  yoke  of  sin  or  be 
made  perfect  in  holiness.  The  Lord  Jesus  suffered  for 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  Was  not  that  hard  ?  Yet 
even  He  was  made  perfect  by  the  things  which  He 
suffered  ;  and,  for  that  joy,  He  despised  the  cross.  Shall 
we  fret  at  our  cross,  if  it  will  help  to  make  us  partakers 
of  his  holiness  and  perfection  .?  Shall  even  the  leper  fret 
at  /lis  cross  ? 

If  this  life  were  all,  the  leper  under  the  Mosaic  law, 
smitten  with  a  foul  and  cruel  disease  for  no  fault  of  his 
own,  and  then  cast  out  from  their  fellowship  by  the  xcry 
men  for  whose  instruction  he  was  smitten,  might  well 
account  himself  the  most  miserable  of  men,  and  the 
more  miserable  because  the  most  unjustly  used.  If  you 
could  go  to  him  and  say  :  "  Sir,  do  not  be  cast  down  ; 
do  not  murmur  and  complain.  True,  you  have  to  suffer 
the  ravages  of  a  most  loathsome  disease,  and  even  to  be 
despised  and  rejected  by  those  whom  you  teach  and 
warn.  Still  you  do  teach  them.  You  are  an  incarnate 
parable.  You  make  men  dread  the  sin  which  bears  such 
deadly  fruit."  If  you  were  to  say  that,  it  would  seem 
very  cold  comfort  to  him,  would  it  not  ^    Yes,  at  first 


124  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

perhaps  ;  but  the  more  he  thought  of  it,  and  in  propor- 
tion as  there  were  any  noble  and  heroic  elements  in  his 
nature,  any  willingness  to  suffer  for  the  good  of  others, 
any  of  that  altruism  which  our  very  Agnostics  proclaim 
to  be  the  chief  virtue  of  man,  your  comfortable  words 
would  gather  warmth  and  inspiration,  and  prove  to  be  the 
most  comfortable  he  could  hear.  And,  then,  if  you  could 
point  him  to  the  Man  of  men,  and  tell  him  how  Christ 
came  down  from  heaven  to  suffer  for  us  all,  to  do,  in 
fact,  the  very  work  which  he,  the  poor  leper,  was  doing 
in  his  measure  ;  if  you  could  also  talk  to  him  of  the  per- 
fection which  comes  through  suffering,  of  the  great  and 
high  rewards  which  God  bestows  on  as  many  as  toil  and 
endure  for  the  sake  of  others,  you  might  breathe  a  very 
pure  and  noble  ambition  into  him :  if  he  were  a  genuinely 
good  man,  he  might  even  become  a  willing  sacrifice  that 
he  might  serve  God  and  his  neighbours,  and  so  win  Hfe 
from  his  very  death.  But  he  vnist  be  a  very  good  mian  : 
for  which  of  us  would  be  content  to  become  a  leper  that, 
through  us,  God  might  teach  and  bless  our  fellows  ? 
Which  of  us  would  willingly  hang  on  a  cross  that  we 
might  fill  up  that  which  is  left  of  Christ's  affliction  for 
the  .salvation  of  the  world  ?  We  should  think  such  a  lot 
very  hard  ;  and  yet  it  might  be  a  far  more  good  and 
glorious  lot  than  any  we  should  choose  for  ourselves. 
And  so,  no  doubt,  many  of  the  Jewish  lepers  thought 
theirs  a  cruelly   hard   fate,  and    failed   to  get  from   it 


BE  CLEAN!  125 


cither  the  good,  or  the  honour,  they   mij^ht   liavc  got 
from  it. 

If  they  did,  who  are  we  that  wc  should  censure  and 
condemn  them?  Few  of  our  greatest  or  most  painful 
sacrifices  arc  made  quite  voluntarily  or  cheerfully,  though 
wc  may  be  very  thankful  for  them  when  they  arc  past, 
or  when  we  have  learned  to  bear  them  and  to  get  the 
good  of  them.  If  God  send  us  a  deforming  accident, 
or  a  keen  yet  abiding  pain,  or  a  great  loss,  or  a  deep 
wound  to  the  heart,  or  even  any  little  fret  and  worry  in 
our  business  or  our  home  life,  our  first  thought  is  not 
always,  "  Here  is  an  opportunity  of  serving  God  and 
man.  If  I  take  my  trial  patiently,  bravel}',  chcerfull}-, 
I  shall  help  my  neighbours  to  believe  that  there  is  a  real 
power  in  religion,  and  dispose  them  to  trust  in  God  and 
to  bow  to  his  high  Will."  That  is  not  often  our  first 
thought,  I  fear,  though  it  may  be  our  last.  We  fret, 
we  cry  out  ;  both  our  courage  and  our  patience  fail  us  ; 
we  think  no  one  was  ever  so  ill-used  as  wc ;  our  own 
troubles  engross  us,  though  we  know,  in  our  calmer 
moods,  that  many  of  our  neighbours  have  still  heavier 
troubles  to  bear  ;  our  burden  absorbs  our  whole  atten- 
tion, and  wc  have  no  ej^e  for  the  blessing  which  is  hidden 
in  it  and  conveyed  by  it.  It  takes  long  for  us  to  compose 
and  adjust  ourselves  to  our  task,  and  to  live  out  a 
religious  parable  for  the  teaching  of  our  fellows.  And 
it  takes  still  longer  for  us  to  account  it  an  honour  that 


126  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

we  should  be  thought  worthy  to  suffer  for  the  glory  of 
God  and  for  the  good  of  men. 

Yet  we  call  and  profess  ourselves  Christians,  and  that 
quite  sincerely.  And  Christians  are  men  and  women 
who  are  animated  by  the  spirit  of  Christ  and  walk  even 
as  He  walked.  He  became  a  curse  for  the  world.  He 
came  to  his  own,  and  his  own  received  Him  not.  He 
was  despised  and  rejected  by  the  very  men  He  came  to 
teach  and  to  save.  And  if  any  man  have  not  the  spirit 
of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  his.  If  we  do  not  suffer  with 
Him,  we  cannot  reign  with  Him. 

2.  We  fall  short  of  the  Perfect  Man,  then.  We  also 
fall  short  of  very  imperfect  men.  For  here,  in  our  story, 
is  a  leper  who  wished  indeed  to  be  cleansed  from  his 
leprosy,  as  was  natural  and  right ;  but  who,  nevertheless, 
was  content  to  remain  a  leper  if  Christ  thought  that 
best,  which,  though  right,  was  surely  something  more 
than  natural.  "  Full  of  leprosy,"  he  draws  near  to  Jesus 
with  the  cry,  "  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  make  me 
clean."  And  this  cry  was  the  utterance  of  an  astonishing 
and  sublime  faith.  For,  consider.  The  Lord  Jesus  had 
not  long  commenced  his  public  ministry.  He  had  only 
just  delivered  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  He  had  not 
fully  shewed  Himself  unto  Israel.  The  leper  could  not 
possibly  have  heard  many  of  his  words,  or  have  seen 
many  of  his  works.  He  may  have  sat  on  the  mountain, 
apart  from  the  groups  which  gathered  immediately  round 


BE  CLEAN f  127 


Jesus,  and  have  heard  the  divinest  wonls  which  ever  fell 
from  human  lips.     Ikit  a  ^neat  multitude  had  also  heard 
them.     Yet  none  but  the  leper  seems  to  have  felt  that 
lie  who  spake  as  never  man  spake  must  be  more  than 
man,  the   Lord   from   heaven.     He,  however,  does  not 
hesitate  to  address  Christ  as  "LORD;"  nay,  he  "wor- 
ships" this  "  lord  "  as  God.     He  kneels  down  and  falls 
down  (Luke  v.  12)  on  his  face  before   Him,  as  though 
seeing  in   Him  a  divine  and  insufferable  majesty.     And 
his  words  are  of  a  piece  with  his  worshii)  :  "  If  thou  wilt, 
thou  canst  make  me  clean."    He  has  no  doubt  of  Christ's 
po'iocr  to  heal  a  disease  which  yet  was  bex'ond  the  scope 
of  human   power.     Nor  does  he  doubt,  as  our  English 
translation  seems  to  imply,  Christ's  ivillingncss  to  heal 
and  bless  him.     He  rather,  as  the  Greek  conveys,  recog- 
nizes the  perfect  grace  of  Christ's  will  :  he  is  sure  that 
Christ  will  heal  him  if  it  is  good  for  him  to  be  healed. 
He  knows  that  only  an  exertion  of  that  omnipotent  will 
is    requisite,  and    that   that  Will   always  stands  at  the 
giving  point.     But  he  is  humble;  he  distrusts  himself 
and  his  own  wisdom  :  what  Jic  thinks  good  may  not  be 
good  for  him  after  all.     And  so  he  refers  himself  solely 
to  the  pure  and  kindly  will  of  Christ,  leaves  the  decision 
to  Him,  and  is  prepared  to  accept  it  whatever  it  may  be. 
This,  surely,  was  nothing  short  of  a  sublime  act  of 
faith  in  one  so  miserable  and,  comparativeK-,  so  untaught. 
Yet,  as  we  know,   this   attitude  of  perfect    faith,    this 


128  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

cheerful  and  unforced  accord  of  our  will  with  the  Divine 
Will,  is  the  true  posture  of  devotion.  For  faith  is  not 
a  mere  recognition  of  Divine  truths  and  realities.  It  is 
not  a  careless,  or  even  a  careful,  acceptance  of  dogma. 
It  is  a  profound  personal  trust  in  Christ,  or  in  God,  a 
perfect  acquiescence  in  his  will  as  a  good  and  kind  will, 
an  entire  content  with  his  ordinance  for  us,  whatever  the 
form  it  may  take.  We  may  accredit  all  that  the  Bible 
contains,  and  all  that  theologians  have  drawn  out  of  it 
or  put  into  it.  We  may  observe  all  the  ordinances 
and  sacraments  of  the  Church,  and  be  very  zealous  in 
the  service  of  its  institutions  ;  but  we  have  neither  the 
true  faith  nor  the  true  devotion  until  our  will  coalesces 
with  the  will  of  God,  runs  into  it  and  becomes  one  with  it. 

This  ignorant  and  miserable  outcast  puts  us  all  to 
shame.  He  is  content  to  bear  and  do  Christ's  will 
even  though  it  should  leave  him  still  bound  in  the  chains 
of  pain  and  death  and  shame;  while  we  too  often  cannot 
submit  to  that  will,  or  cannot  cheerfully  submit  to  it,  if 
our  nerves  ache,  or  a  neighbour  speaks  irritably  to  us 
or  we  are  called  to  endure  some  loss  or  suffering  which 
cannot  for  a  moment  be  compared  to  the  leper's  living 
death. 

3.  And  if  the  leper  puts  us  to  shame,  how  much  more 
does  Christ  the  Healer!  "Moved  with  compassion,  he 
put  forth  his  hand  and  touched  him."  Now  to  touch 
a  leper  was  to  become  a  leper,  in  the  eye  of  the  Law  and 


BE  CLEAN!  129 


of  the  Priests.  So  that  to  heal  a  leper  Christ  became 
a  leper,  just  as  to  save  sinners  He  who  knew  no  sin 
became  sin  for  us  ! 

Imagine  the  feeling  of  the  leper,  from  whose  approach 
all  men  shrank  with  an  instinctive  and  cultivated  loath- 
ing, when  that  pure  and  gracious  Hand  was  laid  upon 
him.  What  comfort  was  in  that  touch,  and  what 
promise  1  For  how  should  Christ  take  him  by  the  hand, 
and  not  heal  him  ?  how  bid  him  rise,  and  lift  him  from 
the  dust,  without  also  raising  him  from  death  to  life? 

The  touch  of  Christ  was  his  response  to  the  leper's 
worship  ;  but  as  he  fell  first  on  his  knees,  and  then  on 
his  face,  the  leper  had  uttered  a  pra}'er  ;  and  his  prayer 
also  wins  a  response.  The  prayer  was,  "  Lord^  if  thou 
luilt,  thou  canst  make  vie  clean"  And  the  answer  is, 
"  /  xi'///,  he  thou  made  clean"  Word  answers  to  word  ; 
the  response  of  Christ  is  a  mere  echo  of  the  leper's 
pfaycr.  "  Use  thy  will  for  my  help,  if  it  be  thy  will," 
cried  the  leper.  "  I  use  it,"  is  the  reply,  "  for  it  is  my 
will  to  help."  "  Make  me  clean,"  begged  the  leper;  and 
Christ  replied,  "  Be  thou  clean."  The  answer  is  an  exact 
echo  of  the  request.  But  the  echo  which  the  mountain 
gives  back  to  our  cry  is,  as  you  must  often  have  noticed, 
calm  and  pure  and  musical,  however  harsh  or  dissonant 
or  strained  our  voice  may  be.  Your  cry  or  shout  may 
rise  into  a  piercing  scream ;  but  if  you  wait  and  listen, 
it  comes  back  to  you  with  all  the  discord  and  e.xcite- 
10 


130  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

mcnt  strained  out  of  it,  comes  back  at  times  with  a 
mystical  force  and  sweetness  and  purity.  And  when 
the  leper  heard  his  passionate  cry  come  back  from  the 
lips  of  Christ,  must  there  not  have  been  a  heavenly 
sweetness  and  power  in  that  gracious  echo  ?  Must  he 
not  have  wondered  how  his  poor  words  should  have 
suddenly  grown  instinct  with  a  celestial  music  and 
energy  ? 

He  could  hear  the  echo  to  his  prayer.  But  often,  for 
us  at  least,  the  heavenly  response  is  so  much  more  pure 
and  heavenly  than  the  earthly  passion  of  our  prayer, 
that  we  catch  no  echo,  and  feel  as  if  our  prayer  had 
been  passed  over  by  our  God.  We  ask  for  ease,  for 
rest,  for  peace  ;  and  God  sends  us  trouble  as  the  only 
means  to  ease,  toil  as  the  path  to  rest,  conflict  as  the  way 
to  peace.  And  we  do  not  recognize  the  echo.  We  said 
"  Ease,"  and  the  Mountain,  or  God  from  the  mountain 
of  his  holiness,  answers,  "Trouble";  we  said  "Rest," 
and  the  Mountain  answers  "  Toil " ;  we  said  "  Peace," 
and  the  Mountain  answers  "  Conflict."  Call  you  that 
echoing  our  cries  ?  Yes,  indeed :  for  how  can  God 
give  us  what  we  cannot  take  ?  And  before  we  can  take 
ease,  if  our  ease  is  to  be  heavenly,  we  must  pass  through 
many  purifying  troubles  ;  before  we  can  find  the  true 
rest,  we  must  get  our  work  done  ;  before  we  can  be 
at  peace,  we  must  have  fought  our  fight  and  won  our 
victory. 


BE  CLEAN!  131 


W'licn  \vc  cry,  "  Make  us  clean,"  God  always  answers, 
"  Be  thou  clean,"  but  that  is  not  alwa}'s  the  answer  wc 
hear  or  seem  to  hear.  We  often  ask  God  to  create  a 
clean  heart  within  us  when  He  can  only  cleanse  our 
hearts  with  a  torrent  of  affliction  or  with  bitter  tears 
of  repentance.  And  then  to  our,  "  Make  us  clean,"  the 
Mountain  may  seem  to  reply,  "  I  send  you  sorrow,"  and 
we  do  not  at  once  perceive  that  the  sorrow  is  a  cleansing 
sorrow,  and  that  God  is  really  answering  the  very  prayer 
wc  offered. 

Not  always,  not  at  once,  are  our  prayers  answered  in 
the  very  terms  of  our  prayer.  Do  you  suppose  that  this 
leper  had  never  prayed  before  he  met  Jesus  ?  Do  you 
not  rather  assume  that  his  constant  daily  prayer  had 
been,  "  Lord,  make  me  clean  "  >  Noiv  the  echo  comes 
swift  and  clear,  "  ]^e  thou  made  clean.  He  had  never 
heard  such  an  echo  before.  But  had  his  previous  prayers 
been  left  unanswered  ?  Unanswered  !  Every  one  of 
them  had  been  answered.  It  was  the  answers  to  his 
prayers  which  had  prepared  him  to  recognize  the  Christ 
when  He  came,  to  fall  at  his  feet  and  to  call  Him 
•'  Lord."  It  was  the  answers  to  his  earlier  prayers 
which  had  prepared  him  to  pray  now,  and  had  qualified 
him  to  receive  a  reply  which  sent  a  new  life  leaping 
through  body  and  soul. 

Let  us  take  the  comfort  of  that  thought.  We  need  it 
sorelv.     How  often  have  we  said,  "Create  a  clean  heart 


132  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER, 

in  us,  O  God  ; "  or  "  Give  us  faith  ; "  or  "  Make  us 
pure:"  and  yet  we  are  put  to  shame  this  morning  by 
the  faith,  the  cheerful  obedience  and  submission,  of  a 
poor  outcast  who  was  content  to  remain  a  loathsome 
and  solitary  leper  if  that  should  prove  to  be  the  Lord's 
will  for  him.  Have  we  prayed  in  vain  then  ?  Surely 
not,  if  our  prayers  have  been  sincere.  If  we  have 
sought  the  Lord  by  endeavour  as  well  by  prayer,  we 
have  had  our  answers ;  and  these  answers  are  preparing 
us  for  a  time,  and  for  the  joy  of  a  time,  when  to  our 
"  Make  us  clean,"  God  will  reply  not  by  making  us  a 
little  cleaner,  or  by  allotting  us  purifying  sorrows  and 
toils  and  conflicts,  but  by  making  us  every  whit  clean 
and  whole.  As  yet  the  Divine  Mountain  may  have 
yielded  us  only  mysterious  and  doubtful  replies  ;  but  let 
us  still  cry  on  in  hope ;  for  soon  the  pure  heavenly  echo 
to  our  best  desires  will  fall  like  a  celestial  music  on  our 
ears,  and  send  the  pulses  of  a  perfect  and  immortal  life 
leaping  through  our  souls. 


THE   CLEANSIXG   OF  THE  LEPER. 

II. -BE   SILENT. 

"  And  he  strictly  char^^^ed  him,  and  straightway  sent  him  out, 
and  saith  unto  him,  Sec  thou  say  nothing  to  any  man  :  but  go  thy 
way,  shew  thyself  to  the  priest,  and  offer  for  thy  cleansing  the 
things  which  Moses  commanded  for  a  testimony  unto  them.  But 
he  went  out,  and  began  to  publish  it  much,  and  to  blaze  abroad 
the  matter,  insomuch  that  Jesus  could  no  more  openly  enter  into 
a  city,  but  was  without  in  desert  places." — Mark  i.  43-45. 

Of  the  earlier  verses  of  this  story  I  gave  you  an  expo- 
sition hist  Sunday  morning.  The  main  points  of  that 
e.xposition  were  these  :  (i)  That  the  Mosaic  law  which 
banished  the  leper  from  camp  and  city,  which  condemned 
him  to  go  with  bare  head  and  rent  garment,  as  one  who 
mourned  his  own  death,  and  to  cry,  "  Unclean,  unclean  !  " 
so  often  as  he  approached  the  haunts  of  men,  was  not 
a  sanitary  precaution,  but  a  dramatic  religious  parable, 
setting  forth  God's  hatred  fir  the  various  forms  of 
disease  and  death  which  spring  from  sin  ;  that  it  was 
but  one  of  many  illustrations  of  the  law  of  vicarious 


134  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

sacrifice,  which  constantly  compels  one  man  to  suffer 
for  the  sins  of  others.  (2)  That  the  faith  of  the  leper 
is  a  standing  rebuke  to  our  weak  and  imperfect  faith, 
since  here  was  a  man  who,  though  he  knew  little  of 
Christ,  worshipped  him  as  the  true  "  Lord  "  of  men,  and 
was  even  content  to  remain  a  leper  all  his  life  if  that 
should  be  Christ's  will  for  him.  And  (3)  that  so  often 
as  we  ask  for  cleansing,  God  echoes  our  prayer  with 
"  Be  thou  clean  ; "  but  that  the  echo  is  often  of  so  pure 
and  heavenly  a  strain  that  we  fail  to  recognize  in  it  the 
response  to  our  prayer. 

And  now,  without  further  preface  or  recapitulation,  I 
must  ask  your  attention  to  the  closing  sentences  of  the 
narrative :  to  our  Lord's  command  to  the  leper  He  had 
cleansed  ;  and  to  the  leper's  blended  obedience  and  dis- 
obedience to  that  command. 

I.  And,  first,  for  our  Lord's  commmid.  No  sooner  is 
the  leper  cleansed  than,  instead  of  bidding  him  bear 
witness  to  the  grace  and  power  by  which  he  had  been 
healed,  the  Lord  Jesus  strictly,  or  even  sternly,  enjoins 
him  to  "say  nothing  to  any  man,"  but  to  go  and  shew 
himself  to  the  priests  "for  a  testimony  unto  them." 

This  is  not  at  all  the  command  we  should  have 
expected  ;  and  we  cannot  but  ask,  therefore,  for  the 
reason  of  it.  We  should  have  thought  that  the  man's 
first  duty  was  7iot  to  hold  his  peace,  but  to  tell  every 
man  he  met  "  what  a  great  Saviour  he  had  found,"  and 


BE  SILENT.  135 


to  urge  them  to  repair  to  the  Ilcaler,  in  order  that  they 
too  might  be  made  whole.  With  many  of  us  it  is  a 
thread-bare  commonplace  that  those  who  have  been 
saved  by  Christ  are  bound,  as  their  first  and  most 
urgent  duty,  to  bear  witness  to  his  salvation,  and  to 
bring  others  to  the  Cross  in  which  they  have  found 
healing  and  peace.  Yet  here,  and  in  many  similar  cases, 
the  Lord  Jesus  bids  the  man  whom  He  has  cleansed 
and  saved  "  say  nothing  to  any  man  ; "  i.e.,  He  forbids 
him  to  publish  and  blaze  abroad  the  tidings  of  his 
salvation  ;  forbids  him,  i.e.,  to  take  the  very  line  which 
many  a  raw,  ignorant,  and  unproved  convert  is  en- 
couraged to  take  to-day,  and  encouraged  to  take  by 
men  who  claim  a  special  religious  earnestness  and  zeal. 

Now  why  was  that  ?  Can  it  be  that  a  very  common 
conception  of  Christian  duty  is  after  all  inaccurate  and 
misleading,  and  that  it  is  not  every  convert's  first  and 
great  duty  to  bear  verbal  witness  to  the  Saviour  who 
has  redeemed  him?  It  may  be  that  this  is  an  inac- 
curate and  misleading  conception  of  Christian  duty ; 
and  for  myself  I  think  it  is.  But,  assuredly,  there  were 
other  reasons  for  our  Lord's  prohibition  ;  and  it  may  be 
well  to  look  at  these  first. 

Doubtless  one  reason  why  our  Lord  enjoined  silence 
on  many  of  those  whom  He  had  healed  was,  that  He 
did  not  as  yet  wish  to  draw  on  Himself  the  public 
attention.     He  came  not  to  strive,  and  cry,  and  make 


136  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

his  voice  heard  in  the  streets.  It  was  perilous  to  the 
higher  objects  of  his  mission  that  the  people  of  Galilee, 
ignorant  and  sensual  in  their  thoughts,  as  they  neces- 
sarily were,  should  crowd  round  Him,  and  try  to  make 
Him  by  force  the  sort  of  King  He  would  not  be.  And 
therefore,  for  a  time,  He  set  Himself  to  repress  the 
eager  zeal  of  his  converts  and  disciples.  He  desired  to 
go  quietly  about  his  work,  sowing  seeds  of  truth  and 
grace  which  might  hereafter  bring  forth  fair  fruit  abun- 
dantly. When  "  his  own  "  had  been  prepared  to  receive 
Him,  then,  but  not  before.  He  would  court  the  publicity 
from  which  as  yet  He  shrank.  It  was  not  that  He  had 
anything  to  hide,  but  that  He  had  so  much  to  do,  so 
much  that  could  not  be  done  amid  glare  and  noise. 

Another  and  more  special  reason  for  his  prohibition 
in  the  case  before  us  was,  that  He  wished  the  leper  to 
discharge  a  special  duty:  viz.,  to  bear  a  "testimony  to 
the  priests,"  For  Christ  cared  for  the  absent  priests,  in 
distant  Jerusalem,  no  less  than  for  the  leper's  immediate 
neighbours  of  Galilee.  And  the  testimony  He  wished 
to  send  them  could  hardly  have  failed  to  make  a  deep 
and  auspicious  impression  on  their  minds.  As  yet  they 
were  prejudiced  against  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Almost  all 
they  knew  of  Him  was  the  divine  indignation,  the 
prophetic  authority,  with  which  He  had  driven  the 
brokers  from  the  Temple.  They  thought  of  Him  as 
a  zealot,  a  fanatic,  who  had  swept  away  corruptions  at 


BE  SILENT.  \yj 


which  they  had  connived,  by  which  they  had  profited. 
Probably  they  feared  that  He  might  set  Himself  to 
destroy,  rather  than  to  fulfil,  the  Mosaic  law,  or  that 
He  might  undermine  their  authority  with  the  people. 
In  the  earlier  part  of  his  ministry,  you  must  remember, 
men's  thoughts  of  Jesus  were  unformed,  fluid,  indefinite. 
No  class  or  faction  had  pronounced  cither  for  or  against 
Him.  The  priests,  possibly,  a  little  suspected  and 
feared  Him — priests  commonly  do  fear  originality  and 
zeal  :  but  some  of  them  had  been  impressed  by  his 
words  and  bearing  and  claims  ;  while  others,  who  cared 
very  little  whether  He  was  or  was  not  the  Messiah, 
waited  to  sec  whether  it  would  not  be  wise  to  take  Him 
up  and  use  Him  as  a  political  tool.  And  Jesus  cared 
for  them  all ;  He  would  fain  have  brought  them  all  to 
a  knowledge  of  the  truth  and  a  better  mind. 

Now  if  the  leper  had  done  as  he  was  bid,  if  he  had 
held  his  peace,  if  he  had  gone  straight  to  Jerusalem  and 
told  the  priests  that  Jesus  had  sent  him  to  them  in  order 
that  they  might  examine  him  by  the  Mosaic  tests  and 
say  whether  he  was  clean,  and  if  he  had  taken  them  the 
offerings  which  Moses  had  commanded  the  cleansed 
leper  to  present  before  the  Lord,  he  would  have  carried 
them  "  a  testimony  "  which  could  hardly  have  failed  to 
produce  a  happy  effect  on  their  minds.  F'or  they  con- 
fessed that  leprosy  was  a  disease  quite  beyond  mortal 
reach,  which  only  God  could  arrest.     If,  then,  they  were 


138  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

satisfied  that  Jesus  had  healed  this  Galilean,  that  at  his 
mere  word  the  leper's  tainted  flesh  and  rotting  bones 
had  taken  new  vigour  and  freshness,  they  might  have 
felt  that  God  must  be  with  the  Man  who  had  wrought 
so  great  a  cure,  and  have  scrupled  to  oppose  Him.  At 
the  lowest,  they  would  have  been  prepossessed  in  his 
favour. 

This  favourable  impression  would  have  been  vastly 
strengthened  by  the  fact  that  He,  who  had  cleansed  the 
leper,  recognized  their  position  and  authority,  that  He 
had  sent  the  leper  to  tJiern,  with  the  customary  gifts, 
that  they  might  certify  him  to  be  clean  in  the  usual 
form.  His  deference  to  their  priestly  authority  could 
hardly  have  failed  to  propitiate  them.  His  deference 
to  the  law  of  Moses  might  have  led  those  who  sat  in 
Moses'  chair  to  indulge  the  hope  that  He  was  bent  on 
establishing  the  law,  not  on  making  it  void. 

So  that  had  the  leper  forthwith  obeyed  the  command 
of  Christ,  he  would,  in  two  ways,  have  carried  a  very 
impressive  "testimony"  to  the  priests.  First,  his  very 
healing  would  have  testified  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
wielded  a  divine  power  ;  and,  then,  the  deference  of 
Jesus  to  the  law  and  to  the  priesthood  would  have  pre- 
disposed them  in  his  favour.  But,  obviously,  much  of 
the  effect  of  the  man's  testimony  would  depend  on  his 
full  and  instant  obedience.  If  he  lingered  in  Galilee,  or 
on  the  way  ;  if,  instead  of  carrying  the  news  straight  to 


BE  SILENT.  139 


the  priests,  he  prated  to  every  man  he  met ;  if  thus, 
long  before  he  reached  them,  they  heard  confused  and 
misleading  rumours  of  the  miracle,  his  message  would 
lose  much  of  its  value.  Till  the  priests  had  pronounced 
him  clean,  moreover,  he  was  a  leper  in  the  eye  of  the 
law  ;  he  had  no  right  to  enter  the  cities  and  talk  with 
men.  If  he  broke  the  law,  if  he  delayed  to  present 
himself  to  the  constituted  authorities,  if  he  assumed  that 
he  was  clean  before  they  pronounced  him  clean,  they 
would  infer  that  both  he  and  his  Healer  were  wanting  in 
respect  both  to  them  and  to  the  law  they  were  appointed 
to  administer.  All  the  grace,  all  the  courtesy  and  defe- 
rence, of  our  Lord's  act  would  be  cast  away. 

It  u<as  cast  away.  The  leper,  though  clean,  was  not 
"  perfect,"  and  could  not  rule  his  unruly  tongue.  He 
came  to  the  priests,  if  he  came  at  all,  late,  instead  of 
going  first  to  them, — observing  their  law  only  after  he 
had  broken  it  ;  and  thus  the  special  value  and  force 
of  his  "  testimony  to  the  priests  "  was  impaired,  if  not 
lost. 

This  of  itself,  I  think,  would  be  a  sufficient  reason  for 
our  Lord's  injunction,  if  it  stood  alone.  Put  it  docs  not 
stand  alone.  It  is  one  of  many  similar  injunctions.  On 
almost  all  of  those  who  were  first  healed  by  Him,  the 
Lord  Jesus  imposed  silence  and  reserve.  They  were 
not  to  "  follow  "  Him,  much  as  they  desired  it,  but  to  go 
back  to  their  old  place  and  do  their  old  duties  in  a  new 


I40  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

and  higher  spirit.  They  were  not  "  to  blaze  abroad  the 
matter,"  but  to  hold  their  peace  and  tell  no  man.  An 
injunction  so  habitually  given  must  have  had  a  large  and 
general  meaning  ;  it  cannot  have  been  prompted  simply 
by  special  and  personal  motives.  No  doubt  there  %uas 
some  good  pertinent  reason  for  it  in  every  single  case. 
No  doubt  t/iis  reason  was  common  to  all  these  cases, 
that  the  Lord  Jesus  did  not  wish,  till  the  hour  struck 
and  men  were  prepared  for  it,  to  become  the  mark  of 
public  attention  ;  that  He  shrank  from  becoming  the 
centre  of  enthusiastic  crowds,  the  occasion,  or  the  excuse, 
of  political  tumults.  But,  besides  these,  we  cannot  but 
feel  that  there  must  be  some  reason  in  our  common 
human  nature  for  this  constant  injunction  to  silence  ; 
that  the  Lord  Jesus  must  have  been  thinking  of  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  men  when  He  forbad  them  to  bear 
public  witness  to  his  marvellous  works. 

And  one  such  reason  is  to  be  found,  I  think,  in  the 
very  different  estimate  put  on  miracles  by  Christ  and  by 
the  Church.  We  have  been  in  the  habit, — for  many 
centuries  men  have  been  in  the  habit, — of  regarding 
miracles  as,  above  all  else,  proofs  and  evidences  of  the 
truth.  It  is  only  of  late  years  that  the  more  thoughtful 
students  of  the  Word  have  come  to  suspect  that  miracles 
are  a  burden  which  the  Gospel  has  to  carry  rather  than 
wings  of  proof  which  bear  it  up.  But,  however  ti'e  may 
regard  them,  our  Lord  and  his  Apostles  laid  very  little 


BE  SILENT.  141 


stress  upon  them.  St.  Paul,  for  instance,  tells  us  inci- 
dentally that  he  wrought  many  and  great  miracles  at 
Corinth  (2  Corinthians  xii.  12),  but  we  have  no  record 
of  any  one  of  them.  And  our  Lord  Himself,  as  was 
natural  in  One  to  whom  nothing  was  impossible,  speaks 
with  a  certain  contempt  of  mere  marvels,  and  of  the 
faith  which  rests  on  them.  He  promises  that  Zc'^  shall 
do  "greater  works  "  than  any  He  did  ;  He  affirms  that 
only  those  are  truly  blessed  who  can  believe  without 
seeing  signs  and  wonders.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that 
He  did  not  care  to  be  known  as  a  Thaumaturgist,  but 
rather  as  a  Teacher  ;  that  He  did  not  care  to  have  his 
miracles  blazed  abroad,  but  did  care  to  have  "  a  testi- 
mony "  borne  to  men  ?  To  the  leper,  possibly,  nothing 
was  so  grand,  nothing  so  desirable,  as  the  power  to  work 
miracles  ;  but  Jesus  knew  "  a  more  excellent  way,"  and 
held  not  love  alone,  but  almost  any  ethical  and  spiritual 
virtue,  to  be  worth  far  more  than  tongues,  or  prophecy, 
or  the  faith  that  can  only  remove  a  mountain.  For  this 
reason,  therefore,  among  many  others,  He  bade  the 
leper  "say  nothing"  of  the  miracle  which  made  him 
clean  "  to  any  man." 

Consider,  too,  how  religious  emotion  evaporates  in  talk, 
how  virtue  goes  out  of  us  in  the  words  we  utter.  Every 
man  has  only  his  own  limited  measure  of  spiritual  energy; 
and  if  his  stock  be  small,  instead  of  expending  it  in 
speech,  it  will  be  a  wise  thrift  of  him  to  reserve  it  for 


142  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

action,  for  conduct,  which  Matthew  Arnold  assures  us 
is  three-fourths  of  human  life.  If  you  hear  a  truth 
pathetically  set  forth,  or  if  you  witness  any  incident  of 
an  impressive  kind,  certain  emotions  and  impulses  are 
quickened  and  released  within  you.  You  are  uneasy 
till  you  have  expressed  them.  You  feel  that,  after 
having  been  so  moved,  you  must  do  something  to  shew 
your  sympathy  or  admiration.  If  you  hold  your  tongue, 
you  probably  ivill  do  something  ;  you  will  be  impelled 
to  some  kindly  action  or  to  a  more  perfect  obedience  to 
the  truth.  But  if  you  talk  and  talk  about  it,  you  "un- 
pack your  heart  with  words;  "  you  dissipate  your  energy 
or  passion  in  mere  speech.  You  have  found  your  vent, 
and  you  can  be  at  rest. 

Have  you  never  observed  that  t  never  observed  how 
speech  lowers  and  stales  emotion  ?  never  found  that  the 
more,  and  the  more  warmly,  you  talk  of  truth,  of  love, 
of  service,  the  less  need  you  feel  for  action  ?  If  you 
have,  you  can  understand  how  wise  and  kind  it  was  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  to  bid  the  leper  "say  nothing  to  any 
man,"  and  how  foolish  it  was  of  the  leper  to  unpack  his 
heart  with  words,  to  go  about  blazing  abroad  the  matter, 
instead  of  going  quietly  to  bear  his  testimony  to  the 
priests.  These  blazing  fires  of  speech  consume  the 
material  on  which  they  feed. 

Suppose  he  had  strictly  obeyed  the  strict  charge  of 
Christ.     Suppose  that,  in  place  of  lingering  to  prate  and 


BE  SILENT.  143 


gossip  with  his  ncif^hbours,  and  dwcHinc;  on  all  that  was 
marvellous  in  the  miracle  till  he  had  exhausted  the 
fountains  of  wonder  and  awe,  he  had  gone  silently  to 
Jerusalem  with  the  offerings  which  Moses  had  com- 
manded, brooding  as  he  went  over  the  great  work  which 
had  been  wrought  upon  him,  and  recalling  the  Master's 
words  and  look  and  touch  ;  would  he  not  have  been  the 
more  likely  to  enter  into  the  spiritual  meaning  of  the 
physical  cure,  to  have  recognized  in  Christ  the  Saviour 
of  the  soul  as  well  as  of  the  body,  and  to  devote  himself 
with  all  his  heart  to  the  service  of  Christ  ?  As  he  mused, 
would  not  the  fire  have  burned  and  grown,  instead  of 
blazing  out  in  mere  words  ?  Is  it  not  alwaj-s  better  to 
obey  than  to  talk  about  obedience,  to  shew  love  than  to 
profess  love  ? 

Obviously,  though  no  doubt  he  thought  to  honour 
Christ  by  "  much  publishing"  what  lie  had  done,  this 
man  was  not  strong  enough  for  that  form  of  service. 
To  what  good  end  did  he  honour  Christ  with  his  tongue, 
while  he  dishonoured,  by  disobeying.  Him  in  his  life  ? 
Let  us  take  the  warning,  and  be  "  swift  to  hear,  slow  to 
speak."  Much  talk  about  religion — and  especially  about 
the  externals  of  religion,  about  miracles  and  proofs, 
about  ceremonies  or  the  affairs  of  the  Church — so  far 
from  strengtiicning  the  spirit  of  devotion,  is  perilously 
apt  to  weaken  it,  and  I  for  one,  instead  of  expecting 
preachers  to  be  better  than  other  men,  expect  less  of 


144  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

them  simply  because  they  have  to  preach  in  all  moods 
and  all  weathers.  There  are  few  who  are  strong  enough 
to  talk  as  well  as  to  act.  And  there  are  still  many  who 
repeat  the  very  mistake  made  by  the  Galilean  leper 
eighteen  centuries  ago.  They  talk,  and  talk,  and  talk 
about  religion,  or  about  what  they  assume  to  be  religion, 
about  their  Church  or  Chapel  institutions,  services, 
affairs,  about  the  wonderful  sermons  they  hear — wonder- 
fully bad  or  wonderfully  good — about  how  this  great 
thing  is  to  be  done  or  that  great  effort  made  ;  and  all 
the  while  they  too  often  neglect  the  simplest  duties  of 
home  or  business  or  Church  life.  And  their  neighbours, 
instead  of  being  favourably  impressed  and  inclined  to- 
wards religion,  smile  with  contempt  at  so  much  eager 
noisy  talk  coupled  with  so  little  devout  action.  Such 
professors  are  well  named  ;  for  their  profession  often 
becomes  a  new  hindrance  in  the  way  of  Christ,  instead 
of  a  testimony  to  his  healing  and  redeeming  power. 

See  what  harm  this  leper  did,  though  doubtless  he 
had  none  but  a  good  intention,  what  an  ill  return  he 
made  for  the  grace  of  Christ.  By  touching  the  leper 
Christ  had  become  a  leper,  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  The 
kind  Hand  laid  upon  him  not  only  healed  him,  but  drew 
him  from  the  desert  into  the  city  and  re-admitted  him  to 
the  society  of  men.  And  the  leper  rewarded  his  Healer 
by  driving  Ilini  out  of  t/ic  city  into  the  desert.  Simply 
because   his    foolish   tongue  would  wag,  "Jesus   could 


BE  SILENT.  145 


no  more  openly  enter  into  a  city,  but  was  "  compelled 
to  remain  *'  without  in  desert  places."  Could  we  have 
a  more  convincing  illustration  of  the  danger  of  dis- 
obedience, however  pure  and  generous  its  motive  may 
seem  ?  Yes,  for  it  is  a  still  more  bitter  proof  when 
we  find  that  by  our  own  fluent  religious  talk,  and  the 
easy  but  eager  profession  by  which  we  honestly  meant 
to  serve  Christ,  we  have  alienated  from  Him  those  who 
stand  nearest  to  us  and  know  us  best.  And  that  is 
a  proof  we  need  not  go  far  to  seek.  It  is  only  too 
probable  that  we  can  all  recall  men  who  meant  well 
enough,  but  who,  by  much  talk  of  a  religion  which  did 
not  enter  deeply  into  their  life  and  conduct,  gave  their 
children,  or  their  associates  in  business,  a  distaste  to 
religion  in  any  and  every  form.  It  is  only  too  easy  for 
any  one  of  us  thus  to  drive  Christ  from  his  natural 
kingdom  in  honest  and  good  hearts  into  the  desert 
without,  by  what  we  mistake  for  sheer  gratitude  for  his 
having  drawn  us  from  dark  solitary  places  into  the  light 
and  fellowship  of  his  Church. 

2.  But  some  of  you  may  ask  :  How  came  this  leper 
to  disobey  the  word  of  the  Lord  ?  how  are  we  to  recon- 
cile the  inconsistencies  of  his  character  ?  Here  was  a 
man  of  so  sublime  a  faith  that,  had  it  been  Christ's  will, 
he  was  content  to  remain  a  leper  all  his  life,  and  yet 
he  cannot  even  hold  his  tongue  when  Christ  straightly 
charges  him  to  hold  it! 

II 


146  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

Is  that  a  puzzle  to  you,  my  brethren?  It  ought  not 
to  be  a  puzzle,  and  could  not  be  if  you  were  thoughtful 
students  of  your  own  hearts.  Have  you  yet  to  learn 
that  it  is  much  easier  to  brace  oneself  for  great  en- 
deavours than  to  maintain  a  faithful  discharge  of  simple 
and  lesser  duties?  easier  to  suffer  death,  for  example, 
in  some  great  cause  than  to  set  such  a  watch  over  the 
lips  as  never  to  offend  ?  easier  to  make  a  great  sac- 
rifice for  some  worthy  end  than  to  keep  one's  temper 
under  the  slight  frets  and  provocations  which  every  day 
brings  with  it  ?  I  do  not  doubt  that  the  leper  would 
have  found  it  much  easier  to  lay  down  his  life  for 
Christ's  sake  than  to  hold  his  tongue  for  Christ's  sake, 
just  as  Naaman,  the  Syrian  leper,  would  have  found 
it  easier  to  "  do  some  great  thing  "  than  simply  to  bathe 
in  the  Jordan.  A  great  faith  is  not  always  a  patient  and 
submissive  faith.  The  faith  that  can  remove  mountains 
will  not  always  condescend  to  lift  pebbles  from  a 
brother's  path.  We  must  not  think'  too  hardly  of  the 
leper,  therefore,  because  he  could  not  refrain  his  tongue. 
The  man  who  can  rule  that  m-^mber  is  a  perfect  man, 
says  St.  James,  for  his  faith  covers  his  whole  life  down 
to  its  lightest  action. 

We  should  also  remember  into  what  fatal  languors 
great  spiritual  excitement  is  apt  to  react.  Revivals  of 
religion  are  often  attended  by  sins  of  sense  ;  those  who 
are  full  of  the   Spirit  one   hour,  may  be,  as   St.    Paul 


BE  SILENT.  147 


reminds  us,  full  of  spirits,  full  of  strong  drink,  the  next. 
Arc  we  therefore  to  pronounce  them  insincere,  to  say 
that  there  was  no  reality  in  their  religious  emotion, 
that  they  were  simply  playing  the  hypocrite  ?  Only  a 
pitiable  ignorance  of  ourselves  and  of  our  neighbours 
will  allow  us  to  say  that.  For  who  has  not  found,  with 
terror  and  surprise,  that  the  holiest  moments  of  life  are 
apt  to  be  followed  by  the  most  unholy  ?  that  when  our 
hearts  have  been  drawn  nearest  to  heaven,  so  soon  as 
the  spiritual  excitement  flags  we  sirk  into  our  lowest 
and  most  earthly  moods  ?  There  is  no  time  at  which 
we  need  to  be  so  much  on  our  guard  as  when  we  have 
been  moved  to  profound  religious  emotion.  At  such 
times  the  flesh  seems  to  lie  in  wait  for  its  revenge,  and 
the  lusts  of  the  flesh  spring  on  the  spirit  when  it  is  weak 
and  exhausted,  and  we  fall  from  our  highest  pitch  of 
devotion  to  the  lowest  depth  of  sin.  The  leper  who, 
face  to  face  with  Christ,  could  live  or  die  for  Him,  but 
no  sooner  quits  his  presence  than  he  cannot  even  hold 
his  tongue  for  Ilim,  is  but  a  glass  in  which  we  may  see 
ourselves  and  read  a  warning  against  our  own  peril. 

What  is  it  that  makes  us  expect  to  meet  another  and 
a  higher  class  of  men  in  the  Gospels  than  ourselves } 
Why  are  we  disappointed  if  Galilean  peasants  and 
artizans,  if  even  those  of  them  who  were  sick  and  blind, 
lame  or  leprous,  shew  the  very  weaknesses  of  which 
we  ourselves  are  conscious?     Instead  of  regret  and  dis- 


148  THE  CLEANSING  OF  THE  LEPER. 

appointment,  we  should  rather  feel  thankfulness  and 
joy,  not  that  they  are  as  weak  and  sinful  as  we,  but  that 
Christ  could  love  and  save  them  although  they  were 
sinful  and  weak.  If  we  read  the  New  Testament  wisely, 
there  is  hardly  any  greater  comfort  for  us  in  it  than  this 
— that  its  men  and  women  are  our  born  brothers  and 
sisters,  as  inconsistent  as  we  are,  the  same  strange  com- 
pound of  good  and  evil,  of  spiritual  aspiration  and 
sensual  cravings,  of  devotion  to  Christ  and  of  dis- 
obedience to  his  will ;  and  that  He  moves  among  them, 
full  of  truth  and  grace,  to  correct  their  errors  and  faults, 
to  save  them  from  their  sins  and  infirmities,  and  to  make 
them  partakers  of  his  holiness.  If  He  could  care  for 
tJuvi,  and  train  them,  why  should  He  not  care  for  us 
and  train  us  for  his  service  ?  He  does  and  will,  until 
at  last  we  stand  before  Him  perfect  and  entire,  lacking 
nothing. 


XI. 

THE  LESSONS   OF  THE   ORANGE-TREE. 


"  A   word   fitly    spoken    is    like    apples   of  gold  in   baskets  of 
silver."— Proverbs  xxv.  ii. 


Although  this  was  Goethe's  favourite  proverb,  I  have 
never  been  able  to  admire  it.  I  have,  indeed,  turned 
from  it  with  a  certain  discontent  and  aversion  because, 
take  it  how  one  would,  its  metaphor  seemed  grotesque 
and  uncouth  rather  than  beautiful.  I  could  find  no 
comeliness  in  apples  of  solid  gold,  and  nothing  to 
enhance  their  comeliness,  if  they  had  any,  by  intro- 
ducing them  into  "pictures"  of  silver,  according  to  the 
Authorized  Version  ;  or  piling  them  up,  according  to 
the  Revised  Version,  in  "  baskets  "  of  silver ;  or  sur- 
rounding them  with  "  filagree  work  "  of  silver,  according 
to  the  Margin ;  or  even,  according  to  a  German  Version, 
in  placing  them  on  "  salvers"  of  silver.  In  my  judgment, 
silver  and  gold  do  not  go  well  together  as  colours ;  while 
massive  apples  of  gold  in  any  conceivable  framework 
of  silver  would  furnish  forth  a  very  heavy  and  loaded 
style  of  ornament,  offensive  to  all  artistic  taste. 

liut  all   this,  as  a  great  man  has  said  before  mc,  was 


ISO         THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE. 

*'  pure  ignorance  "  on  my  part ;  and  it  has  been  left  to 
a  traveller  in  the  East  (Mr.  Neil,  in  his  Palestine  Ex- 
plored) to  convict  me  of  my  ignorance,  and  to  redeem 
this  proverb  to  the  service  of  beauty. 

"Apples  of  gold,"  it  would  seem,  is  a  poetic  name  for 
the  orangie  in  more  than  one  Eastern  tongue — some 
trace  of  this  gold,  indeed,  may  linger  in  the  first  two 
letters  of  the  word  orange,  since  or  is  French  for  gold, 
and  or  and  argent  are,  even  to  us,  familiar  heraldic 
terms  for  gold  and  silver.  And  if  the  gold  of  the 
Proverb  is  figurative,  why  should  not  the  silver  be 
figurative  also,  and  point  to  the  creamy  white  blossoms 
of  the  Orange-tree  ?  Take  it  so,  and  the  Proverb  at 
once  becomes  "  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  for  ever," — 
as  true  to  nature,  too,  as  it  is  beautiful  in  itself.  For 
the  Orange-tree  is  one  of  the  few  trees  which  bear 
blossom  and  fruit  together — bearing  both  indeed  through 
the  greater  part  of  the  year.  And  no  one  who  has  seen 
orange-trees  in  full  blossom  and  full  bear  can  have  failed 
to  note  how  the  beauty  of  the  golden  fruit  is  set  off  by 
its  framework  of  white  fragrant  blooms. 

Now  it  is  something,  it  is  much,  to  have  enriched  our 
minds  with  this  beautiful  image ;  but,  of  course,  our 
work  is  not  half  done  until  we  have  learned  what  moral 
the  beautiful  metaphor  is  intended  to  point,  what  it  is 
that  the  golden  glow  of  the  orange,  gleaming  amid  its 
silvery  blossoms,  has  to  teach  us.     And  here,  again,  our 


THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE.        151 

task  is  a  somewhat  difficult  one,  since  the  wording  of 
the  Proverb  is  condensed,  elliptical,  figurative,  and 
therefore  obscure,  in  both  clauses  of  it.  It  is  easy  to 
see  how  our  Revisers  understand,  "A  word  fit/)'  spoken  ;" 
for,  in  the  Margin,  they  teach  us  to  read  it  as  "  a  word 
spoken  in  due  season."  A  timely,  an  opportune,  word 
is,  according  to  them,  as  beautiful  and  effective  as  the 
golden  orange  set  off  by  its  encircling  blooms.  And 
they  have  high  authority  for  reading  it  thus.  One  of 
the  most  learned  and  sober  commentators  of  Germany 
(Dclitzsch)  gives  this  rendering  of  the  proverb  : 

Golden  apples  in  silver  salvers, 
A  good  word  spoken  according  to  its  circumstances  j 

by  which  somewhat  clumsy  rendering  of  the  latter  clause 
he  means,  doubtless,  a  good  word  adapted  to  time  and 
audience,  and  to  all  the  conditions  of  the  time. 

And  "  a  word  in  season,  how  good  it  is!"  Most  of 
us,  no  doubt,  can  recall  more  than  one  such  word,  spoken 
in  the  very  nick  of  time,  and  so  happily  adapted  to  our 
conditions  at  the  moment,  that  it  largely  influenced  our 
whole  subsequent  career, — saved  us  from  some  terrible 
temptation  perhaps,  or  braced  us  for  a  resolute  effort, 
and  so  made  the  moment  momentous,  a  turning-point  in 
our  life.  And  as  we  look  back  on  such  words,  and  com- 
pute their  worth  to  us,  no  image  can  be  too  rich  or 
precious  to  set  forth  their  worth. 


152         THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE. 

No  doubt  such  timely  words  have  a  certain  beauty  in 
the  retrospect,  as  well  as  an  inestiniable  vakie  at  the 
time.  A  word  fitly,  i.e.^  opportunely,  spoken,  adapted  to 
the  instant  necessity,  and  carrying  courage  and  decision 
to  the  oppressed  and  wavering  heart,  has  a  beauty  of  its 
own,  even  if  it  be  only,  or  mainly,  the  beauty  of  useful- 
ness ;  although  perhaps  it  is  its  worth  that  we  think  of 
rather  than  its  beauty. 

And  yet  I  gravely  doubt  whether  this  is  the  kind  of 
word  which  the  Proverb  holds  up  for  our  admiration, 
whether  timeliness,  or  pertinence,  is  the  special  beauty 
which  the  Wise  Man  had  in  his  mind.  I  believe,  rather, 
that  by  "  a  word  fitly  spoken  "  he  meant  not  simply  an 
opportune  word,  but  a  word  which  was  the  fittest,  the 
most  perfect  and  beautiful,  expression  of  the  thought 
which  had  to  be  uttered.  If  you  glance  at  the  margin 
of  the  Authorized  Version  you  will  learn  that,  in  the 
Hebrew,  the  phrase  rendered  thus  runs,  "  A  word  spoken 
on  its  wheels."  And  what  can  a  word  spoken  on  its 
wheels  mean  and  imply  but  a  word,  or  a  sentence,  so 
admirably  spoken,  so  pat,  so  polished,  of  such  fine  literary 
quality,  that  it  runs  swiftly,  smoothly,  easily,  to  its  mark, 
does  its  work  and  reaches  its  aim  without  fuss,  or  noise, 
or  effort .?  It  is  n9t  timeliness,  or  pertinence,  which  the 
Original  phrase  suggests,  but  rather  noble  and  effective 
literary  form. 

Every  kind  of  thought  has  its  appropriate  expression 


THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE.        153 

in  languaj^^e  ;  and  for  any  valuable  thought  there  is 
generally  some  one  form  of  expression  so  exactly  and 
happily  right  that,  when  once  it  is  reached,  the  thought 
is  felt  to  have  been  uttered  once  for  all,  to  have  received 
its  fitting  and  perfect  embodiment.  No  man  can  improve 
upon  it.  No  man  can  alter  a  single  word  in  it  without 
lessening  its  force  and  lowering  its  quality.  It  bears  the 
stamp  of  inevitableness,  completeness,  distinction.  What 
the  Wise  Man  admires,  what  he  bids  us  admire,  is  those 
weighty  and  happy  sentences  which  embody  a  noble 
thought  in  words  of  answering  nobleness  ;  those  jewels — 
to  take  an  illustration  from  Tennyson,  himself  a  master 
of  these  admirable  sentences — 

jewels  five-words  long 
That  on  the  stretched  forefinger  of  all  time 
Sparkle  for  ever. 

What  he  affirms  is  that  a  fine  thought  thus  fitly  uttered 
is  enhanced  in  force  and  beauty,  just  as  the  golden  fruit 
of  the  Orange-tree  takes  a  new  and  more  potent  charm 
from  the  natural  framework  of  flowers  in  which  it  is 
set. 

And  it  was  natural  that  he  of  all  men  should  cherish 
this  keen  appreciation  of  literary  form  and  quality.  It 
was  his  function,  as  it  was  that  of  all  the  sages  of  Israel 
(the  whole  Chokina  school^,  to  put  the  best  thought  of  his 
time  into  the  most  perfect  forms  of  which  it  was  capable; 
to  make  poetry  of  it,  to  condense  it  into  proverbs — into 


154         THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE. 

miniature  parables  i.e. — which  would  catch  the  popular 
ear,  or  linger  in  the  memory  of  the  students  of  wisdom. 
Many  of  the  great  Hebrew  rabbis  were  content,  we  are 
told,  to  spend  their  whole  lives  in  elaborating  and  polish- 
ing a  single  saying,  which  might  be  quoted  in  the 
Schools,  generation  after  generation,  as  Rabbi  So-and- 
so's  contribution  to  the  general  store. 

The  proverb,  moreover,  is  the  oldest  form  of  poetry. 
In  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  therefore,  we  should  expect  to 
find  the  praise,  not  of  wisdom  alone,  but  of  the  wisdom 
which  excels  in  that  literary  art  in  which  the  Wise  Men 
were  adepts,  the  wisdom  which  can  be  content  with 
nothing  short  of  the  highest  excellence,  the  most  finished 
beauty,  of  form  and  expression.  And  we  find  both  that 
beauty,  and  its  praise,  in  the  Proverb  before  us  :  "A 
word  on  wheels,  and  on  its  own  wheels,  i.e.,  a  sentence 
which  sets  a  noble  thought  to  noble  and  appropriate 
music,  which  incarnates  itself  in  its  own  proper  form, 
and  therefore  goes  straight  to  its  mark,  is  like  the  fruit 
of  the  Orange-tree  peeping  out  of  its  blooms  :  it  gains  an 
added  force  and  charm." 

I.  This  is  the  first  lesson  of  our  Orange-tree,  then  ; 
that  a  happy,  a  fair  and  noble,  utterance  of  a  wise 
thought  gives  it  a  new  charm,  a  new  and  victorious 
energy.  And  the  Proverb  is  itself  an  exquisite  illustra- 
tion of  that  lesson.  For  the  plain  truth,  that  the  power 
of  a  wise  thought  gains  in  proportion  as  it  is  expressed 


THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE,        155 


in  choice  words  and  measured  phrase,  is  indefinitely- 
enhanced  by  the  comparison  of  the  thought  to  a  golden 
fruit,  and  of  the  form  to  its  frame  of  silvery  blossoms. 
It  is  at  once  raised  to  a  higher  plane,  and  lives  in  our 
memory  for  ever,  when  once  we  have  grasped  the  com- 
parison and  its  meaning.  It  is  like  one  of  Tennyson's 
"  jewels,"  whose  intrinsic  value  is  enhanced  tenfold  by  the 
artistic  labour  bestowed  upon  it. 

And  if  any  man  think  that  a  lesson  on  style,  a  tiny 
song  in  praise  of  the  nobler  forms  of  literature,  is  out  of 
place  in  the  Bible,  and  not  worth  talking  of  in  Church, 
let  him  remember  how  noble  the  literary  forms  of  the 
Bible  are,  and  how  often  he  has  thanked  God  that  they 
are  so  pure  and  noble.  Let  him  imagine  what  the  Bible 
would  be  like,  and  how  it  would  be  shorn  of  its  power, 
if  it  were  simply  a  bare  theological  treatise,  or  a  code  of 
laws  la)'ing  down  our  duties  to  God  and  man.  Take  the 
history  out  of  it,  and  the  biographies,  and  the  poems,  the 
parables,  the  proverbs,  the  splendid  visions  and  lofty 
eloquence  of  the  prophets,  and  what  would  you  have  left  ? 
Not  assuredly  a  book  to  move,  inspire,  and  uplift  the 
world  ;  but  a  mere  caput  iiiorttiuDi,  a  mere  skeleton  of  a 
book,  which  no  man  would  willingly  have  about  him. 
Are  creeds,  and  codes,  and  catechisms  such  satisfactory 
and  enchanting  reading,  do  they  possess  a  spell  so  irre- 
sistible, that  we  should  be  blind  to  the  immense  power 
which  the  Bible  owes  to  the  grave  beauty  of  the  style  in 


156         THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE. 

which  it  is  written,  to  the  noble  forms  of  literature  which 
it  consecrates  and  employs  ? 

Consider  what  it  is  that  makes  any  book  live,  and 
clothes  it  with  power.  Is  it  not  this  very  quality,  that  it 
"  runs  on  wheels,"  that  it  goes  straight  to  the  mark,  that 
it  says  something  worth  saying,  and  says  it  so  well  that 
it  need  not  be  said  again  or  cast  into  another  form  ? 
Distinction  of  style  is  almost  as  potent — if  indeed  it  is 
not  even  more  potent — on  the  life  and  fame  of  a  book  as 
depth  or  originality  of  thought.  The  great  masters  who 
rule  us  from  their  graves  are  men  who,  by  some  happy 
gift  of  nature  or  by  taking  infinite  pains  with  their  work, 
found  once  for  all  the  most  fit  expression  for  thoughts 
which  they  shared  with  many  who  could  not  say  what 
they  thought  so  well.  And  that  which  gives  them  their 
enduring  power  is  not  any  mere  pomp  and  profusion  of 
words,  any  ambitious  flights  of  eloquence  such  as  you 
may  see  even  authors  of  high  rank — Ruskin,  Swinburne, 
and  De  Quincey,  for  example — set  themselves  to  achieve  ; 
but  rather  a  wise  and  noble  simplicity,  a  directness  and 
dignity,  a  certain  naturalness  and  inevitability  in  their 
selection  and  use  of  words  and  metaphors,  which  makes 
you  forget  all  about  literary  art,  and  feel  as  though  you 
were  listening  to  the  authentic  voice  of  Nature  herself. 
It  is  as  if  Thought  had  grown  vocal  in  them,  and  had 
expressed  itself  in  a  form  beyond  the  reach  of  art.  Nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  are  they  deposed  from  their  pride  of 


THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE.        157 

place  by  long  fits  of  prosaic  commonplace.  Wordsworth, 
for  instance,  will  spin  you  out  page  after  page  of  almost 
intolerable  commonplace,  in  which  you  can  discern  no 
moment  of  inspiration,  no  spark  of  genius  ;  but  at  times, 
as  in  T intern  Abbey  or  the  Ode  on  Intimations  of  Immor- 
tality, you  find  the  note  of  distinction,  of  inevitability, 
on  almost  every  word.  And  it  is  in  virtue  of  these  rare 
and  noble  achievements  that  he  takes  and  retains  his 
seat  among  the  highest.  Read  him  at  his  best,  and 
though  you  may  match  him  out  of  Coleridge,  or  Tenny- 
son, or  Browning,  you  can  hardly  excel  him  until  you 
approach  Shakespeare's  supreme  throne. 

In  the  liible,  then,  and  in  our  own  best  poets,  as  indeed 
also  in  many  of  our  great  masters  of  prose,  we  may  find 
many  words  so  fitly  and  exquisitely  spoken,  so  well  set 
up  on  their  wheels,  that  they  are  like  golden  fruit  in  a 
framework  of  natural  silver  ;  and  we  may  learn  from  them 
the  power  and  the  charm  of  a  noble  style. 

2.  I  am  sorely  tempted  to  indulge  in  a  few  illustra- 
tions of  the  Proverb  drawn  from  our  poets  ;  but  as  I  am 
preaching  a  sermon,  not  reading  an  essay,  let  me  pass  on 
to  infer  another  lesson  from  the  Orange-tree  with  its 
mingled  fruits  and  blooms.  We  have  seen  that  the  force, 
the  carrying  and  penetrating  power,  of  a  thought  is 
wonderfully  enhanced  when  it  is  set  on  wheels,  when  it 
is  so  felicitously  expressed  that  it  runs  swiftly  and 
smoothly  to  its  mark.     And  we  have  only  to  generalize 


158         THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE. 

that  sentence  in  order  to  learn,  that  all  force  becomes 
most  forcible  ivhen  it  is  smoothly  and  easily  exerted. 
There  is  a  style  in  deeds  as  well  as  in  words,  and  it  is  no 
less  effective  in  the  one  than  in  the  other.  Whatever  we 
may  think  while  we  are  young  and  immature,  it  is  not 
effort,  strain,  violence,  which  tell  in  action  any  more  than 
in  language,  but  gentleness,  calmness,  a  gracious  mastery 
and  smiling  ease.  Suave  musical  tones  are  more  pene- 
trating, and  more  commanding,  than  "  sounds  of  fury  " 
which  may  signify  nothing  but  a  lost  temper  or  a  failing 
heart.  The  gentle  light  is  a  thousandfold  more  potent 
and  more  fruitful  than  the  blazing  blaring  lightning. 
The  stronger  you  are  the  less  you  need  to  push  and 
strike  ;  a  mere  touch,  a  gesture,  or  even  a  glance,  will 
suffice.  And  the  wiser  you  are  the  less  passionate,  the 
less  vehement,  the  less  overbearing  you  will  be.  A 
familiar  saying  reminds  us  that  we  may  "  have  all  the 
nodosities,"  all  the  gnarls  and  knots,  "  of  the  oak,  with- 
out its  strength,"  and  go  through  "  all  the  contortions  of 
the  Sibyl  without  her  inspiration."  A  man  who  is  sure 
of  his  cause,  and  sure  of  himself,  need  not  be,  and  as  a 
rule  is  not,  loud,  passionate,  domineering.  Why  should 
he  give  way  to  excitement  when  he  has  only  to  speak 
and  all  objections  will  be  answered,  only  to  move  and 
every  obstacle  will  yield  ?  It  is  not  the  broad  strong 
wheel  which  makes  the  noise,  but  the  petulant  little 
pebbles  which  crack  and  explode  under  it.    Great  forces 


THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE.        159 

arc  calm  and  gentle,  because  they  are  irresistible  ;  and 
no  force  is  ever  so  impressive  as  when  we  see  it  moving 
smoothly  and  silently  to  its  end.  The  iron  hand  habi- 
tually wears  a  velvet  glove.  It  is  the  little  brook  which 
fumes,  and  wrestles,  and — I  had  almost  said — swears,  as 
it  rushes  through  the  rocks  ;  the  broad  full  river  glides 
gently  and  swiftly  along,  because  it  is  of  a  volume  to 
sweep  away,  without  effort,  any  obstruction  it  may  en- 
counter. And  there  is  many  a  mountain  cataract  which 
makes  a  more  surprising  uproar  than  the  falls  of 
Niagara,  in  which  it  would  be  lost.  Calmness,  com- 
posure, gentleness,  is  a  sign  of  strength. 

3.  But,  here  again,  I  can  imagine  some  of  you,  but  I 
hope  not  many,  may  be  wondering  that  I  should  occupy 
your  time  with  lessons  such  as  these,  even  though  you 
admit  that  they  spring  naturally  from  my  te.xt.  "  The 
first  lesson,"  you  may  say,  "  was  a  mere  literary  criti- 
cism ;  and  the  second  is  merely  a  criticism  of  human 
life.     What  have  we  to  do  with  these  in  Church?" 

I  do  not  in  the  least  agree  with  you,  though  I  will  not 
now  contest  the  point,  or  argue  that  whatever  brings  out 
the  meaning  of  any  Scripture,  or  tends  to  improve  either 
human  speech  or  human  life,  is  a  fit  theme  fbr  the  pulpit. 
For  these  two  lessons  are  only  intended  to  introduce  a 
third,  the  pertinence  of  which  I  think  you  will  all  admit. 
For  our  third  and  last  lesson  is  that,  if  all  force  is  most 
forcible  when  gently  and  smoothly  e.xerted,  then  Religion, 


i6o  THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE. 

the  sublimest  of  all  forces,  is  most  potent  when  it  is  clothed 
with  grace ;  that  a  genial  and  friendly  godliness  is  like 
the  ruddy  fruit  of  the  Orange-tree  encircled  and  set  off 
by  its  wealth  of  white  odorous  blooms. 

Too  many  of  us  forget  that  Religion,  like  the  tree 
which  stood  in  the  midst  of  Paradise,  should  be  "  plea- 
sant to  the  eye  "  as  well  as  "  good  for  food."  There  was 
much  that  was  admirable  in  the  Puritan  conception  of 
religion — in  its  sincerity,  its  purity,  its  reverence  for  the 
Divine  Will,  its  devotion  to  the  chief  end  of  man,  and 
even  in  its  disdain  for  the  fashions  of  the  depraved  world 
around  it.  But  though  its  heart  was  sound  and  pure,  its 
face  wore  a  frown.  By  its  severity,  its  fierceness,  its 
lack  of  a  large  and  genial  humanity,  its  censoriousness 
and  gloom,  it  rendered  religion  offensive  and  even  repul- 
sive,— as  was  proved  by  the  national  revolt  against  it 
when  sword  and  sceptre  fell  from  Cromwell's  hand. 
The  wiser  sort  of  Puritan  indeed,  whether  laymen  or 
divines,  were  not  responsible  for  the  faults  of  Puritan- 
ism, and  its  failure.  They  cultivated  music  ;  they  loved 
poetry ;  they  valued  culture  and  scholarship  ;  they 
cherished  all  forms  of  quiet  innocent  mirth  ;  and,  with 
St.  Paul,  they  held  Charity  to  be  the  greatest  of  Chris- 
tian virtues.  But  the  commoner  sort  of  Puritan,  as  was 
natural  perhaps  in  an  age  so  licentious  and  corrupt,  were 
austere,  censorious,  fierce,  inhuman,  and  condemned  all 
that  made  human  life  bright,  jocund,  attractive,  all  the 


THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE.        i6i 

arts  that  refine  human  manners,  all  the  courtesies  that 
render  human  intercourse  easy  and  gentle  ;  while  many 
of  them  grew  utterly  sullen  and  fanatical,  and  some  were 
even  tainted  by  that  hypocrisy  which  flickers  only  over 
the  grave  of  virtue  and  religion. 

As  we  look  back,  it  is  easy  for  us  to  condemn  them, 
and  to  condemn  them  even  beyond  their  deserts,  because 
we  make  no  allowance  for  the  cruel,  depraved,  and  fana- 
tical spirit  of  the  age  in  which  they  lived.  Place  Crom- 
well, for  example,  where  he  sfooii,  between  Charles  I. 
and  Charles  II.,  between  the  fanatic  of  authority  and 
the  fanatic  of  pleasure,  between  the  tyrant  and  the  roue; 
and  it  is  not  the  Puritan  governor  of  England  for  whom 
we  need  frame  an  apology.  Forgetting  what  they  had 
to  suffer,  and  what  they  had  to  withstand,  it  is  easy  for 
us,  I  say,  to  condemn  the  Puritans  beyond  their  deserts, 
even  though  we  ourselves  should  be  only  wearing  the 
Puritanic  rue  "  with  a  difference,"  and  a  difference  due 
not  so  much  to  our  personal  qualities  as  to  the  influence 
of  our  age.  For,  in  many  of  us.  Religion  still  wears  a 
sour  and  forbidding  face.  Do  we  not  all  know  men,  and 
good  men,  who  are  more  apt  to  frown  than  to  smile, 
more  ready  to  differ  and  to  censure  than  to  counsel  and 
co-operate,  and  who  often  condemn  wrong  itself  in  a 
tone  as  wrong?  "Apples  of  g')ld"  they  may  be;  but 
assuredly  they  are  not  set  in  any  becoming  framework 
of  silver.      They,  too,  suspect  beauty,  culture,  scholarship, 


i62        THE  LESSONS  OF  THE  ORANGE-TREE. 

mirth,  and  even  devotion  to  the  service  of  God  and  man 
if  it  take  any  form  other  than  that  which  they  approve 
and  prefer.  There  is  nothing  graceful,  and  not  much 
that  is  gracious,  in  the  form  and  manner  of  their  godli- 
ness. They  do  not  render  religion  attractive.  They  do 
not  win,  or  invite,  men  to  Christ  by  the  daily  beauty  of 
their  life. 

Let  us,  then,  learn  a  lesson  from  the  Orange-tree,  and 
the  greatest  lesson  of  all,  the  lesson  of  Charity.  Let  us 
make  it  our  aim,  not  only  to  bring  forth  fruit  unto  God, 
but  to  enhance  its  beauty  by  the  manner  in  which  we 
offer  and  present  it ;  not  only  to  let  men  see  our  good 
works,  but  so  see  them — see  such  a  beautiful,  genial, 
and  friendly  spirit  in  them — that  they  also  may  glorify 
our  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  Nay,  let  us  be  charitable 
even  to  the  uncharitable,  and  meet  their  censures  in  a 
spirit  so  good-tempered  and  gracious  that  they  may  be 
constrained  to  respond  to  it  and  share  it.  In  a  word, 
"  may  tJie  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  us  all." 


XII. 

THE   MAN    WHO    WAS   BORN   BLIND. 

I. -THE  FUNXTION  OF  EVIL. 

"  And  as  he  passed  by  he  saw  a  man  blind  from  his  birth.  And 
his  disciples  asked  him,  saying,  Rabbi,  who  did  sin,  this  man,  or 
his  parents,  that  he  should  be  born  blind  ?  Jesus  answered,  Neither 
did  this  man  sin,  nor  his  parents  ;  but  that  the  works  of  God 
should  be  made  manifest  in  him." — JOHN  ix.  1-3. 

What  a  teacher  was  Christ!  Not  only  is  it  true  that 
"  no  man  ever  spake  like  him  ; "  but  his  very  silence 
often  suggested  more  than  most  men's  words,  and  his 
looks  were  more  eloquent  than  speech.  More  than  once 
we  are  told  of  a  certain  raised  look  lie  had,  a  myste- 
rious and  elevated  look,  seeing  which  his  disciples  were 
"amazed,  and  following  him,"  as  lie  strode  on  wrapt  in 
thought,  "  they  feared."  And  here,  we  are  told,  that  as 
He  came  out  of  the  temple,  He  paused  before  a  man 
who  had  been  blind  from  his  birth,  paused  and  gazed 
upon  him,  gazed  upon  him  so  intently  and  pitifully  that, 
though  He  uttered  no  word,  and  dropped  no  coin  into 
the  imploring   palm,  his    mere   look   set   the   disciples 


1 54  THE  MAN  WHO   WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

thinking,  and .  wondering,  and  asking  themselves  ques- 
tions too  deep  for  them  to  answer. 

It  is  instructive  to  mark  the  turn  their  thoughts  took  ; 
for  it  shews  how  much  these  simple  peasants  and  fisher- 
men had  gained  by  communion  with  Christ  that,  instead 
of  falling  into  village  or  provincial  gossip  about  the 
man  before  them,  their  minds  rise  at  once  to  the  ethical 
problem  which  his  lot  presents,  and  hunt  after  the  cause 
of  his  calamity.  They  do  not  even  ask  what  there  was 
in  this  more  than  in  the  other  beggars  at  the  Temple 
gate  that  Christ  should  single  him  out ;  nor  do  they 
discuss  the  probability  of  a  miracle  being  wrought  upon 
him,  or  beg  Christ  to  work  one.  No  doubt  each  of  the 
disciples  was  affected  by  the  spectacle  in  his  own  way, 
and  revealed  his  personal  bent  by  the  way  in  which  he 
regarded  it.  A  German  commentator  (Pfenniger)  in- 
deed ventures  to  imagine  and  to  report  the  conversation 
which  took  place  between  Iscariot  and  Thomas,  John 
and  Peter.  But,  whatever  characteristic  turn  their 
thoughts  may  have  taken,  they  are  all  busied  with 
the  moral  aspects  of  the  problem,  and  want  to  know 
how  they  are  to  think  of  it  ;  they  want  to  reach  a 
conception  of  it  which  will  fit  in  with  what  they  already 
know  of  God  and  of  his  dealings  with  men. 

This  much  they  had  already  learned  of  Christ — to  lift 
their  thoughts  to  that  high  moral  plane  on  which  his 
mind  habitually  dwelt  and  moved.     Instead  of  vulgar 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  EVIL.  165 

peasants  who  gossip  over  the  details  of  a  nciLjhbour's 
misfortune,  they  arc  thoughtful  students  of  human  life, 
bent  on  solving  its  problems,  on  reaching  the  secret 
Divine  order  which  runs  through  its  confusions,  on 
mastering  "the  plan"  of  that  "mighty  maze"  in  which 
we  too  often  walk  with  careless  feet.  And  hence  they 
supply  us  with  a  test  which  we  may  usefully  apply  to 
our  own  character  and  conduct.  How  do  i^'e  regard 
human  life  ?  what  thoughts  does  our  neighbour's  story 
or  misfortune  breed  within  us?  Have  we  learned  to 
look  on  human  life  with  pensive,  i.e.,  with  thoughtful, 
eyes,  to  study  it,  and  to  ask  the  great  Teacher,  so  often 
as  we  are  perplexed,  what  it  means,  what  it  teaches, 
what  it  reveals  of  the  will,  and  of  "  the  end,  of  the 
Lord  "  ?  If  we  are  his  disciples  and  have  learned  of 
Him,  we  should  have  a  quick  and  tender  sympathy  in 
our  neighbour's  pain,  or  loss,  or  shame,  which  makes  us 
feel  it  as  though  it  were  our  own,  which  compels  us  to 
brood  over  it  as  he  does  or  ought,  and  to  search  for  some 
disclosure  of  God's  mind  and  will. 

Now  if  we  join  the  group  of  Disciples  in  this  spirit, 
and  gaze  with  them  on  the  blind  man,  we  shall  not  be 
overmuch  taken  up  with  the  curious  questions  which  the 
scene,  or  the  record  of  the  scene,  suggests.  We  shall 
glance  at  them,  if  we  must  glance  at  them,  as  quickly  as 
we  may,  and  press  on  to  the  fine  hope  for  humanity 
implied    in    our   Lord's   answer  to  the  question  of  his 


166  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

disciples.  He  has  something  to  say  to  us  on  tJie 
fwiction  of  evil,  on  the  part  it  plays,  and  is  intended  to 
play,  in  human  life  :  and  this  will  be  the  first  thing  with 
us,  first  in  importance  if  not  in  order.  For  if  we  can  get 
a  little  light  from  Him  on  the  mystery  of  our  over- 
shadowed and  confused  existence,  that,  surely,  will  be 
far  more  welcome  to  us  than  any  discussion,  of  the 
singular  question  which  prompted  his  words. 

I.  The  question  of  the  Disciples,  except  as  shewing 
that  it  was  the  ethical  problem  of  the  blind  man's  lot 
which  occupied  their  minds,  is  of  little  worth  or  interest 
.  to  us,  and  is  indeed  very  clumsily  framed.  When  they 
ask,  "  Did  this  man's  pareiits  sirf  that  he  was  born 
blind  ?  "  we  can  go  with  them  to  a  certain  extent ;  for, 
though  we  do  not  hold,  as  probably  they  did,  that  every 
infirmity,  defect,  loss,  is  the  direct  result  of  some  specific 
sin,  we  do  believe  in  the  transmission  of  hereditary 
qualities  and  defects  ;  we  do  believe  that  the  iniquities 
of  the  fathers  are  visited  on  their  children,  even  to  the 
third  or  the  fourth  generation.  But,  as  we  see  that 
children  inherit  much  that  is  good  from  their  parents  as 
well  as  much  that  is  evil,  we  argue  that  they  must  take 
their  inheritance  as  a  whole,  and  not  complain  of  the 
debts  with  which  it  is  burdened,  unless  they  would 
prefer  to  lose  all  the  aids  and  advantages  they  derive 
from  those  who  went  before  them,  and  to  begin  life 
from  the  very  beginning  for  themselves,  with  no  one  to 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  EVIL.  167 

love,  to  care  for  and  cherish  them,  no  home  to  shelter 
them,  no  tools  to  work  with,  no  roads  to  travel  by,  no 
books  to  read,  no  knowledge  save  such  as  they  can 
acquire  for  themselves. 

But  when  the  Disciples  go  on  to  ask,  "  Did  this  man 
sin  that  he  was  born  blind,"  we  do  listen  with  some 
amazement  "  Blind  from  his  birth,"  we  say,  "  how 
could  he  sin  before  he  was  born  ?  "  And  as  we  listen 
for  a  reply,  the  Commentators  gather  round  us  and 
offer  many  solutions  of  our  perplexity.  "The  man 
may  have  sinned,  as  Esau  and  Jacob  did,"  says  Dr. 
Lightfoot,  "in  his  mother's  womb."  "Nay,"  cries 
Tholuck,  "  God  foresaw  that  he  would  sin  heinously 
after  he  was  born."  "  What  need  is  there,"  asks  Stier, 
for  these  fanciful  and  incredible  hypotheses  ?  The 
question  is  clear  enough  if  you  read  it  thus:  "Did  this 
man  sin,  or,  as  that  is  out  of  the  case,  did  his  parents  sin, 
that  he  was  born  blind  ?  "  "  Nay,"  exclaims  Bishop 
Pearce,  "  you  must  read  it  thus  :  Which  did  sin  }  This 
man,  that  he  is  blind,  or  his  parents,  that  he  was  born 
blind?"  But  here  a  whole  chorus  of  more  modern  critics 
breaks  in  with,  "Ye  know  nothing  at  all,  nor  consider  the 
conception  of  life  which  the  ancients  held.  Egyptians, 
Hindoos,  Persians,  Greeks,  all  held  the  eternity,  as  well 
as  the  immortality,  of  the  soul ;  all  believed  that  men 
had  lived  before  they  came  into  the  world  as  certainly 
as  that  they  would  live  after  they  went  out  of  it.     They 


1 68  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

believed  that  the  conditions  men  occupy  here  are  deter- 
mined by  their  conduct  in  a  previous  state,  just  as  their 
conditions  hereafter  will  be  determined  by  their  conduct 
in  the  present  state.  The  Jews  learned  much  from 
Egypt,  much  from  Persia,  much  from  Greece  ;  and  no 
doubt  they  accepted  this  doctrine  of  metempsychosis,  or 
transmigration  of  souls.  What  the  Disciples  meant  by 
their  question  was  :  Did  the  man,  before  he  was  born  on 
earth,  while  he  was  in  a  previous  stage  of  being,  sin  so 
heinously  that,  as  a  punishment  for  his  sins,  he  was  born 
blind  ? " 

This  last  interpretation  sounds  so  reasonable  that  we 
should  gladly  embrace  it  but  for  one  weighty  fact : — 
the  Jews  did  not  believe  in  metempsychosis.  Strange 
as  it  is  that  this  doctrine  of  a  previous  life  did  not  come 
to  them  from  Egypt,  or  Persia,  or  Greece,  we  know  that 
it  did  not  come  to  them  either  as  an  article  of  faith, 
or  even  as  a  popular  superstition.  We  have  it  on  the 
highest  authority— that  of  Dr.  Deutsch  for  one — that 
there  is  not  the  slightest  trace  of  it  in  their  writings  till 
ten  centuries  after  this  question  was  asked.  We  can 
only  conclude,  therefore,  that  the  Disciples,  who  were 
not  infallible,  asked  their  question  hastily  and  con- 
fusedly, and  therefore  clumsily,  and  did  not  mean  all 
they  said  ;  or  that  they  cither  forgot,  or  did  not  reflect, 
that  the  man  was  blind  when  he  was  born,  even  while 
they  acknowledged  it. 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  EVIL.  169 

Neither  our  Lord  nor  his  disciples  spoke  to  each 
other  with  scientific  and  grammatical  precision,  but 
simply,  colloquially,  as  a  man  talkctli  with  his  friend. 
Nor  is  anything  more  dangerous  and  misleading  than 
a  merely  logical  and  precise  exposition  of  the  letter  of 
Scripture.  Our  Lord  Himself  did  not  always  mean 
what  He  said,  if  at  least  we  are  to  insist  on  the  logical 
contents  of  his  words.  When  He  answered  the  ques- 
tion of  his  disciples.  He  said:  ''Neither  did  this  man 
sin,  nor  his  parents"  Take  these  words  literally,  and 
they  mean  that  at  least  three  members  of  the  human 
race  besides  Himself — the  blind  man,  his  father,  and  his 
mother,  were  immaculate,  free  from  any  stain  of  sin  ! 
We  must  use  our  judgment  as  we  read,  taking  the 
words  in  their  sense  and  spirit,  not  in  the  letter  merely. 
Using  our  judgment,  wc  know  that  our  Lord  did  not 
mean  to  affirm  either  that  this  man  or  that  his  parents 
had  never  sinned,  but  that,  neither  his  sin,  nor  that  of  his 
parents,  was  the  final  cause  of  his  blindness.  And  in 
like  manner,  if  we  use  our  judgment,  we  know  that  the 
disciples  could  not  have  meant  exactly  what  they  said. 
Ail  they  meant  was  probabl}'  :  "  Somebody  is  to  blame 
for  this  man's  blindness  ;  who  is  it  .'  Somebody  must 
have  sinned  ;  who  was  it }  " 

But  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  of  a  difficulty 
which,  if  men  were  wise,  would  never  have  been  raised. 
Let  us  get  into  a  wider  space,  and  breathe  an  ampler  air. 


I70  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

2.  If,  then,  we  turn  from  the  question  of  the  Disciples 
to  our  Lord's  reply,  we  see  at  once  that  He  rebukes  that 
judicial  habit  of  thought  which  is  by  no  means  peculiar 
to  \hQ  first  disciples.  In  effect  He  says  to  them,  and  to 
us  :  "  Do  not  be  so  ready  with  your  censure.  There  is 
much  in  human  life  yoji  cannot  comprehend.  And  it  is 
no  part  of  your  duty  to  pronounce  verdicts  even  on 
what  you  do  comprehend,  or  think  you  do.  Why  should 
you  judge  another  man's  servants  ?  To  their  own  master 
let  them  stand  or  fall." 

But  there  is  teaching,  as  well  as  rebuke,  in  our  Lord's 
reply,  wisdom  as  well  as  charity. 

(i)  He  corrects  and  enlarges  the  thoughts  of  the 
Disciples.  He  teaches  them  that,  while  all  pain  and 
calamity  are  the  results  of  sin,  yet  the  pain  or  infirmity 
of  this  man  or  that  may  not  be  attributable  to  any 
specific  sin  of  his  own,  or  of  those  who  are  most 
responsible  for  him.  He  implies  that  the  effects  of  sin 
ray  out  subtily  and  mysteriously,  so  that  we  cannot 
always  trace  them  back  to  their  cause ;  so  that  we 
offend  against  truth,  as  well  as  charity,  if  we  take  every 
calamity  as  the  visitation  of  an  offended  God,  every  loss 
as  a  judgment,  if  we  pride  ourselves  on  telling  for  what 
sin  it  was  that  one  man  is  diseased,  and  another  bereaved, 
and  another  reduced  from  wealth  to  poverty. 

And  do  we  not  all  need  to  lay  this  truth  to  heart  ? 
Almost  every  man  is  apt  to  call  his  own  troubles  acci- 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  E  VJL.  1 7 1 

ih'iits,  and  his  WQ\^\ho\.\x's  judgments.  If  any  one  of  our 
neighbours  suffers,  and  especially  if  he  suffers  in  some 
signal  way,  wc  can  generally  lay  our  finger  on  the  very 
sin  for  which  he  suffers  ;  or,  if  wc  doubt  whether  wc 
have  hit  the  real  blot,  wc  are  only  puzzled  because  wc 
know  of  so  many  sins  any  one  of  which  would  be  a 
sufficient  warrant  for  the  pain  or  loss  inflicted  upon 
him  :  while  if  we  ourselves  are  called  to  suffer  we  can 
find  no  sufficient  reason  for  the  pain  or  loss  inflicted  on 
us.  The  better  rule,  the  more  Christian  rule,  would  be 
to  judge  ourselves,  since  we  may  easily  know  much  evil 
of  ourselves,  and  to  leave  our  neiglikours  unjudged,  since 
we  know  so  little  of  them  ;  nay,  to  run  to  their  help,  and 
to  give  them  what  succour  and  comfort  wc  can.  The 
blind  man's  blindness  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  sins, 
or  with  those  of  his  parents,  tlwugh  the  Disciples  were 
so  ready  to  assume  that  it  had.  And  our  neighbour's 
infirmities,  losses,  troubles,  may  have  nothing  to  do  with 
his  sins,  or  with  those  of  his  kinsfolk,  though  we  shake 
our  head  at  him  and  assume  that  he  has  only  got  what 
he  deserved.  They  may  be  a  discipline  of  perfection, 
and  not  a  punishment  of  guilt. 

Let  us  not  be  so  sure,  then,  that  the  calamities  which 
befall  our  neighbours  are  God's  judgments  on  their  sins  ; 
let  us  not  be  so  hard  on  them  even*  if  they  are.  There 
are  mjsteries  in  every  human  life  which  we  cannot 
fathom, — inherited  defects  of  will  and  taints  of  blood, 


172  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

conspiracies  of  opportunity  and  desire,  predispositions 
and  temptations  the  strength  of  which  we  have  not  felt 
or  cannot  measure.  Whatever  will  help  us  to  think 
humbly  of  ourselves,  and  charitably  of  our  neighbours, 
we  may  safely  cherish.  If  ive  are  afflicted,  bereaved, 
compassed  with  infirmity,  we  do  well  to  ask  for  what 
good  end,  for  the  correction  of  what  evil  bias  or  habit, 
this  evil  has  befallen  us  :  but  we  do  equally  well  if, 
when  our  neighbours  suffer,  we  remember  how  often  the 
maimed,  and  weak,  and  afflicted  are  not  sinners  above 
other  men  ;  if  we  refuse  to  judge  them  although,  and 
because,  we  judge  ourselves. 

(2)  But,  again.  If  this  man  was  not  born  blind  as  a 
punishment  for  sin,  for  what  was  this  terrible  deprivation 
inflicted  on  him  .-*  The  Lord  Jesus  replies — and  here 
lies  our  great  lesson  :  "  The  man  was  born  blind  tJiat  the 
works  of  God  might  be  made  manifest  in  him."  For  in 
this  reply  there  lies  a  great  light  of  hope  for  us,  and  for 
all  men,  as  I  will  try  to  shew  you. 

How,  then,  were  the  works  of  God  made  manifest  in 
this  man  }  Does  our  Lord  mean  that  the  man  was  born 
blind,  and  kept  blind  for  many  years,  in  order  that  He 
might  work  a  miracle  upon  him  }  in  order  that  both  He, 
and  God  through  Him,  might  get  a  little  glory  by  the 
man's  cure  ? 

He  means  nothing  so  selfish  and  so  base.  That  is 
not  the  function  of  evil  in  this  world,  although  good 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  EVIL.  173 

men  often  talk  as  if  it  were.  \Vc,  with  myriads  more, 
are  not  tempted,  smitten,  afflicted,  tormented,  in  order 
that  He  who  sits  in  heaven  may  win  an  honour  upon  us 
such  as  a  tyrant  mii,Hit  covet  ;  in  order  that  we  should 
praise  Him  because  we  fear  Him,  and  beg  Him  to  save 
us  because  we  dread  danger  and  pain,  and  thank  Him 
for  saving  us  because  we  are  glad  to  be  safe.  God  is 
not  exploiting  the  human  race,  as  a  victorious  soldier 
without  conscience  might  do,  to  make  Himself  a  name 
and  a  fainc  in  the  earth.  What  Ch;ist  means  is  that 
God  permitted  blindness  to  come  on  this  man  from  the 
womb  in  order  that  He  might  take  occasion  by  it  to 
open  his  eyes,  not  onl)-  on  the  beautiful  world  of  Nature, 
but  also  on  the  sacred  truths  and  realities  of  the  spiritual 
and  eternal  world,  and  so  prove  it  to  be  the  work  of 
God  to  give  light  to  all  who  sit  in  darkness.  The  inan 
was  exposed  to  this  sad  deprivation  for  a  time  in  order 
that  he  might  see  the  truths  which  the  blind  staring 
Pharisees  could  not  see,  and  be  saved  from  the  supreme 
evils  both  of  life  and  of  death.  This  is  the  meaning 
and  function  of  evil  as  Christ  interprets  it.  It  is  a  dark 
cloud  which  is  to  be  suffused  with  heavenly  light.  It 
is  a  deprivation  from  which  we  are  not  only  to  be 
recovered,  but  through  which  we  are  to  rise  into  a  good 
larger,  deeper,  and  more  enduring,  than  we  could  other- 
wise attain.  Had  this  man  had  the  use  of  his  eyes,  he 
might  have  been  blind  for  ever.    'Blind  from  his  birth, 


174  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

his  eyes  are  for  ever  open  on  a  fairer  world  than 
this. 

This^  I  repeat,  is  the  function  and  purpose  of  evil,  and 
of  all  that  it  breeds.  God  permits  us  to  suffer  from  it 
in  order  that  He  may  manifest  his  works  to  us  more 
clearly,  more  truly,  and  on  a  larger  scale.  Had  the 
blind  man  not  been  blind,  he  might  never  have  seen 
"  the  works  of  God."  Had  he  not  been  blind,  he  might 
never  have  seen  Christ.  Had  he  not  been  compelled  by 
his  blindness  to  brood  over  himself  and  the  true  meaning 
of  life,  he  might  have  met  Christ,  as  thousands  did  meet 
Him,  with  "eyes  that  saw  not,"  instead  of  recognizing 
in  Him  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 
Was  it  not  worth  his  while  to  sit  in  darkness  until  he 
was  "  of  age  "  in  order  that  the  very  first  face  he  saw 
should  be  the  Face  from  which  there  shone  all  the  glory 
of  God?  If  through  weakness  he  gained  the  power  of 
an  endless  life,  if  through  darkness  he  was  prepared  to 
recognize  and  welcome  "  the  Light  of  the  world  "  and 
"  the  Life  of  men,"  was  it  not  well  that  he  should  pass 
through  darkness  and  weakness  into  life  and  light? 

"  Bring  forth  the  blind  that  have  eyes ! "  cried  the 
ancient  prophet.  And,  really,  all  the  blind  men  we  meet 
in  the  Gospel  story  seem  to  have  had  eyes,  and  eyes 
which  they  had  gained  by  their  blindness,  eyes  to  behold 
the  works  and  the  -glory  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord. 

Now  this  concepticJn  of  the  meaning  and  function  of 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  EVIL.  175 

evil — that  it  is  intended  to  qualify  us  for  ultimate  and 
greater  good — is  one  round  which  our  thoughts  often 
play.  Reason  points  to  it,  though  with  a  trembling  and 
uncertain  finger.  We  argue  that  as,  on  the  whole,  life 
prevails  over  death,  good  over  evil,  in  the  natural  world 
and  in  the  human  story,  evil,  with  its  manifold  results 
of  pafn,  may  be  designed  to  arouse  our  attention  to  the 
Divine  order,  to  the  benign  end  to  which  all  things  are 
to  round  at  the  last.  Just  as  "we  take  no  note  of  time 
but  by  its  loss,"  so  also  we  forget,  or  might  forget,  the 
calm  and  bounty  of  Nature  but  for  the  storms  that 
sweep  over  it.  We  should  not  observe  that  health  is 
the  rule,  or  feel  how  good  and  sweet  it  is,  save  for  the 
sicknesses  which  deprive  us  of  it  and  teach  us  to  value 
it  at  its  worth.  We  should  not  notice  that,  on  the 
whole,  God  makes  human  life  tranquil  and  happy  and 
prosperous,  "were  He  not  at  times  to  call  on  us  to  suffer 
pain  and  loss.  We  should  not  know  the  worth  of  love, 
or  how  much  love  is  lavished  on  us,  if  we  never  lost 
those  who  love  us.  We  should  not  realize  the  good 
there  is  in  our  lives,  if  the  smooth  current  of  our  lives 
was  never  vexed  with  ill  winds.  Evil  is  only  the  occa- 
sional discord  which  makes  us  sensible  of  the  prevailing 
harmony  and  renders  it  richer  and  fuller.  It  is  only  the 
interruption  which  makes  us  conscious  of  the  even  flow 
of  our  days.  It  is  only  as  the  task  which  develops  our 
strength,  the  danger  which  endears  our  safety. 


176  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

So  at  least  we  reason  and  persuade  ourselves  in  our 
happier  moods.  But  when,  by  much  labour  of  thought, 
we  have  reached  our  conclusion  and  set  ourselves  to  rest 
in  it,  how  soon,  and  how  terribly,  is  it  shaken  !  how 
many  facts  tell,  or  seem  to  tell,  against  it !  how  uncer- 
tain it  grows  !  how  often  we  falter  where  we  firmly  trod, 
and  at  the  best  can  only  faintly  trust  so  large  a  hope  1 
The  truth  is  that,  in  all  these  attempts  to  argue  out  the 
meaning  and  function  of  evil,  we  handle  things  too  won- 
derful for  us.  We  cannot  grasp  all  the  facts  of  human 
life,  and  interpret  them,  and  harmonize  them.  And, 
therefore,  we  cannot  rest  in  our  conclusion,  however 
laboriously  we  have  reached  it,  unless  it  is  confirmed 
by  Him  who  can  grasp  all  the  facts,  and  who  sees  "  the 
future  in  the  instant."  But  if  He  who  sits  on  high,  and 
sees  the  generations  of  men  rise,  and  pass,  and  fall 
beneath  his  feet — if  He  will  speak  to  us,  if  He  will 
assure  us  that  evil  is  but  the  dark  avenue  to  greater 
good,  that  it  is,  as  one  of  the  Psalmists  boldly  puts  it, 
but  the  bad  dream  of  God  which  will  vanish  the  moment 
He  awakes;  ^  if  He  will  assure  us  that  all  the  infirmities 
and  pains  and  calamities  we  endure  are  designed  to 
usher  in  a  fuller  manifestation  of  his  lovingkindness  and 
truth,  that  they  are  but  as  the  storms  and  frosts  of 
winter  which  prepare  for  the  rich  and  varied  wealth  of 
an  eternal  summer,  then  we  can  welcome  frost  and  wind, 
'  See  Volume  III.  page  163. 


THE  FUNCTION  OF  EVIL.  177 

and  rain  and  storm  ;  \vc  can  {^lory  in  tribulation  also  : 
for  the  joy  set  before  us  we  arc  content  to  bear  whatever 
discipline  lie  may  send. 

And  here  lies  the  immense  value  of  our  Lord's  words. 
For,  here,  Me  docs  assure  us  that  the  ills  we  suffer  arc 
sent  in  order  that  the  works  of  God  may  be  made  mani- 
fest in  us  and  to  us.  He  does  assure  us  that  wc  shall 
rise  through  darkness  and  weakness  into  spiritual  health, 
vision,  perfection  ;  that  the  winter  of  our  discontent 
shall  be  made  glorious  summer  by  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness. We  say,  we  try  to  persuade  ourselves,  that  God 
is  still  evolving  a  soul  of  good  from  all  things  ill  ;  that 
He  will  make  us  glad  according  to  the  years  in  which 
He  has  afflicted  us;  that  if  wc  sow  in  tears,  we  shall 
reap  in  joy.  But,  even  as  we  say  it,  our  lips  quiver,  our 
speech  falters,  our  hearts  misgive  us  :  for  ice  cannot 
grasp  all  the  days  of  time,  nor  sec  "  the  end  of  the 
Lord,"  nor  even  so  much  as  know  what  to-morrow  will 
bring  forth.  But  Clirist  can  and  does.  He  is  of  the 
council  of  the  Almighty.  He  knows  the  mind  of  the 
Lord.  All  the  facts  of  human  life  are  naked  and  open 
to  Him.  All  the  years  of  time  are  beneath  his  eye. 
And,  therefore,  when  He  tells  us  that  goodwill  over- 
come evil  in  the  end,  and  life  conquer  death,  and  that 
all  the  afflictions  of  time  will  work  out  for  us  an  eternal 
weight  of  glory,  and  that  God  permits  evil  in  many 
forms  to  come  upon  us  only  that  He  may  thereafter 
13 


178  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

more  fully  reveal  his  works  to  us,  then  we  can  rest  in 
our  conclusion ;  nay,  better  still,  we  can  rest  in  the  Lord, 
and  wait  patiently  for  Him,  because  we  know,  on  the 
best  authority,  that  He  who  doeth  all  things  well  is 
causing  all  things  to  work  together  for  our  good. 


XIIL 
THE  MAN  WHO   WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

II.— THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD. 

"  I  must  work  the  works  of  him  that  sent  me  while  it  is  day ; 
the  night  conicth  when  no  man  can  work.  As  long  as  I  am  in  the 
world,  I  am  the  light  of  the  world."— John  ix.  4,  5. 

These  verses  are  not  very  lucid,  I  think,  although  they 
speak  of  the  light  and  the  day.  Even  if  we  eke  out 
their  meaning  with  the  verse  which  precedes  them,  the 
connections  of  thought  are  not  clear  and  obvious.  We 
hear  of  the  works  of  God,  and  of  a  day  within  which 
they  must  be  done  ;  we  hear  of  the  light  of  the  world, 
and  of  a  night  in  which  it  must  be  eclipsed  :  but  the 
words  leave  only  a  dim  impression  on  our  minds,  and 
even  this  dim  impression  grows  doubtful  to  us  as  we 
consider  it.  "  Has  there  ever  been  a  night,"  we  ask, 
"  in  which  Christ  could  not  and  did  not  work  .'  Has 
He  not  been  doing  the  works  of  God  from  the  beginning, 
and  will  He  not  do  them  to  the  end  ?  Is  He  the  Light 
of  the  World   only  "  so  long  as "  He  is  in  the  world  ? 


i8o  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

■ • 

is  He  not  also  its  Light  now  that  He  has  left  the  world 
and  risen  above  it  ?  does  He  not  shine  down  upon  it 
with  redoubled  force  from  the  heaven  into  which  He 
rose,  in  which  He  dwells  ?  " 

For  all  so  simple  as  they  sound,  then,  these  words  are 
by  no  means  easy  to  interpret.  The  passage  is  com- 
posed of  plain  Saxon  words  of  one  syllable,  and  yet 
their  meaning  is  not  plain.  Perhaps  the  history  of  the 
passage  will  go  far  to  explain  it.     Let  us  see. 

On  a  certain  Sabbath  day  the  Lord  Jesus  came  into 
the  temple,  probably  toward  the  time  of  afternoon 
service.  The  people  flocked  round  Him  to  hear  what 
He  would  say.  He  had  compassion  on  the  multitude, 
and  spake  the  divine  discourse  recorded  in  Chapter  viii., 
of  which  the  opening  words  are,  "  /  am  the  light  of  the 
world."  As  He  spake,  "many  believed"  on  Him  ;  but 
the  Jews,  i.e.,  the  official  Jews,  were  so  incensed  by  his 
words  that  they  took  up  stones  to  cast  at  Him,  so  that 
He  was  fain  to  hide  Himself  from  them  and  to  leave  the 
temple. 

Many  believed  on  Him  because  of  the  words  He 
spake.  But  even  after  the  most  moving  and  impressive 
discourse  "there  is  a  sense  of  vacancy  in  the  heart.  We 
feel  as  if  we  were  out  of  communion  with  the  business 
and  the  misery  of  the  world,"  as  if  there  were  a  great 
gulf  between  the  pure  and  lofty  thoughts  by  which  we 
have  been  moved  and  the  vulgar  realities  of  our  daily 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD. 


life.  \Vc  want  to  sec  these  thoughts  put  to  the  test, 
to  see  them  reduced  to  practice.  Not  till  the  word  has 
been  clothed  in  the  loveliness  of  perfect  deeds  does  it 
take  full  effect  upon  us.  Christ  might  have  said''  I  am 
the  light  of  the  world  "  for  ever,  and  have  won  little 
faith  or  reverence  save  from  those  whose  hearts  were 
in  some  measure  akin  to  his  own  ;  but  if  Me  who  said 
that  Me  was  the  Light  of  all  men  gave  light  to  even  one 
man,  that  man  would  believe  his  word,  and  many  more, 
who  were  not  to  be  reached  by  words  alone,  would  be 
disposed  to  believe  it. 

Christ  does  illustrate  his  word  by  a  deed.  As  He 
passes  out  of  the  temple,  He  sees  a  man  blind  from  his 
birth  among  the  throng  of  those  who  sat  and  begged 
at  the  gate.  He  pauses,  and  looks  at  the  man.  His 
disciples  also  pause  and  look  ;  and  as  they  look  they 
begin  to  consider  for  what  cause  this  calamity  had  come 
upon  him.  They  assume  that  the  cause  must  be  sin, 
the  man's  own  sin,  or  that  of  his  parents.  Christ  teaches 
them  to  think  more  accurately  and  more  largely.  Just  as 
He  had  said  of  the  mortal  disease  of  Lazarus,  "This  sick- 
ness is  not  unto  death,  hut  for  the  glory  of  God,  that  the 
Son  of  God  viay  be  ghyrificd  thereby^"  so  He  says  of  the 
blind  man's  infirmity,  "  Neither  for  his  own  sin,  nor  for 
that  of  his  parents,  was  this  man  born  blind,  /'///  that  the 
ii>orks  of  God  should  be  made  manifest  in  him."  Just 
as  by  the  grave  of  Lazarus  Christ  proved  Himself  to  be 


1 82  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

"  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life  "  of  all  men,  by  raising 
one  dead  man  to  life,  so  He  now  proves  Himself  "the 
Light "  of  all  men,  by  giving  light  to  one  who  sat  in 
darkness. 

This  was  the  deed  in  which  He  clothed  and  vindicated 
his  word.  This  was  the  work  by  which  He  proved  Him- 
self to  be  "  the  Light  indeed."  For  in  this  single  case 
Christ  revealed  a  general  law.  He  taught  us,  as  I 
shewed  you  last  Sunday,  what  God's  purpose  is  in  per- 
mitting evil  and  imperfection  to  come  on  men.  Any 
one  of  God's  works  reveals  the  law  of  his  working — his 
method,  his  purpose  and  aim.  And,  therefore,  this  work 
throws  light  on  all  similar  and  related  cases.  It  teaches 
us  the  true  function  of  evil.  It  brings  us  the  welcome 
assurance  that  God  uses  the  very  evil  He  hates  for  our 
greater  good  ;  that  even  through  this  dark  cloud  He 
causes  the  beams  of  his  righteousness  and  mercy  to 
shine. 

I.  It  is  here,  at  this  point  of  the  story,  that  my  text 
comes  in.  Christ  is  about  to  "  make  manifest  the  works 
of  God ;  "  to  shew,  in  one  crucial  instance,  what  God 
is  always  doing  for  men  through  the  miseries  they 
endure.  And  as  the  purpose  rises  on  his  mind,  he  is 
conscious  that  to  manifest  the  works  of  God  is  his  sole 
and  constant  mission  on  the  earth,  and  says,  "  I  must 
work  the  works  of  Him  that  sent  me."  A  sacred 
necessity  was  upon  Him.     He  did  not  choose  his  own 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD.  183 

way,  nor  his  own  tasks.  They  were  appointed  for  Him. 
To  this  end  had  He  come  into  the  world,  that  He  mi^'ht 
shew  and  declare  the  Father,  that  He  might  reveal  the 
mind  and  will  of  God,  so  reveal  them  as  to  convince 
men  of  the  absolute  goodness  of  his  will,  and  that  his 
mind  was  a  light  in  which  there  was  no  darkness  nor 
shadow  cast  by  turning. 

The  work  of  Christ,  therefore,  was,  on  his  own  shewing, 
to  manifest  the  works  of  God,  to  make  them  apparent 
and  impressive.  According  to  his  own  conception  of 
his  mission.  He  was  to  do  plainly  and  visibly  what  God 
is  always  doing  in  a  more  secret  and  reserved  way.  It 
was  his  task  to  draw  aside  the  veil  of  secondary  causes 
and  general  laws  behind  which  God  and  his  working  are 
commonly  hidden  from  our  eyes,  and  to  shew,  in  one 
superb  demonstration,  what  God  is  for  ever  doing  for 
our  welfare  and  redemption. 

New  there  are  few  thoughts,  even  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment itself,  of  graver  moment  or  happier  significance 
than  this.  It  is  /////  of  light  and  comfort  when  once 
we  master  it.  Take  an  illustration  of  it,  then.  There 
are  certain  gases — oxygen,  hydrogen,  nitrogen — each 
of  which,  taken  singly,  is  fatal  to  human  life  ;  and  yet 
these  very  gases,  variously  combined,  are  essential  to 
human  life.  Blended  in  one  proportion,  they  make  the 
air  we  breathe  ;  blended  in  another  proportion,  they 
make  the  water  we  drink.    For  the  most  part  we  breathe 


184  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

the  pure  aii  and  drink  the  Y\\\x\%  water  without  any- 
thought  of  the  Eternal  Wisdom  and  Goodness  which 
supply  these  gases  in  due  proportion,  and  which  cun- 
ningly blend  elements,  each  of  which  is  by  itself  fatal 
to  life,  into  the  very  necessaries  of  life.  This  constant 
marvel,  which  transcends  all  miracles,  is  concealed  from 
us  by  the  very  constancy  of  the  laws  or  methods  by 
w  hich  it  is  produced.  But  one  day  a  man  of  science 
visits  us.  He  brings  these  gases  with  him,  and  shews 
us  how  fatal  they  are,  in  their  separate  forms,  to  animal 
life.  He  tells  us  in  what  proportions  they  must  be  com- 
bined in  order  to  sustain  the  life  they  would  else  destroy. 
He  makes  his  experiments,  and  from  a  due  intermixture 
of  these  gases  he  produces  an  air  we  can  breathe,  pre- 
cipitates a  water  we  can  drink.  In  short,  ]ie  makes 
Dianifesi  to  ns  the  works  of  God,  the  works  that  God  is 
always  doing,  and  by  which  the  whole  fabric  of  Nature 
is  redeemed,  moment  by  moment,  from  destruction. 

In  like  manner  Christ  came  to  manifest  the  woiks  of 
God  in  a  region  higher  than  that  of  physical  life,  in  the 
moral  and  spiritual  order  of  the  universe.  From  the 
beginning  God  has  been  ordering  human  life,  so  ordering 
and  combining  elements  in  it,  which  else  were  fatal,  as 
to  compe^  them  to  minister  to  human  welfare.  But,  for 
the  most  part,  though  men  are  conscious  of  a  certain  dis- 
cipline in  the  pain  and  sorrow  and  loss  by  which  their 
sins  and  faults  are  corrected,  and  therefore  of  a  certain 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD.  185 

benefit  which  they  derive  from  them  ;  though  they  admit 
that  on  the  whole  their  life  is  wisely  ordered,  they  do  not 
see  who  it  is  that  is  for  ever  evolving  good  from  ill,  or 
that  He  is  redeeming  them  from  the'power  and  bondage 
of  evil  by  the  miseries  of  their  self-induced  captivity. 
Therefore  Christ  came  and  dwelt  among  us.  He  came 
to  manifest  the  constant  invariable  will  and  purpose  of 
God  ;  to  shew  us,  as  in  a  marvellous  series  of  experi- 
ments, who  it  is  that  so  blends  all  the  moral  components 
of  our  life  as  to  make  it  an  advance  from  evil,  through 
pain,  to  good,  a  progress  from  imperfection  to  perfection. 
We  see  Christ  healing  men  of  their  sicknesses,  feeding 
them  with  bread,  gladdening  them  with  wine  ;  wc  see 
Him  encountering  all  that  was  evil  in  the  men  around 
Him  with  a  patient  goodness,  and  overcoming  it,  so  that 
the  most  sinful  and  despised  outcasts  are  drawn  to  Him 
and  his  salvation  ;  we  see  Him  dying  to  give  us  life,  and 
rising  from  the  dead  that  we  may  have  life  still  more 
abundantly.  And  in  all  this  we  arc  to  discern,  not  the 
grace  of  Christ  alone,  but  also  the  grace  of  the  Father 
who  sent  Him  ;  we  are  to  behold,  not  simply  a  few 
isolated  acts  of  mercy,  but,  in  those  acts,  the  proof  and 
illustration  of  an  eternal  Mercy,  of  a  Loving-kindness 
ever  at  work  for  our  redemption.  For  a  few  brief 
months  Christ  did  "the  works  of  Him  that  sent"  Him, 
did  them  visibly,  plainly,  so  that  men  could  not  fail  to 
?ec  them,  in  order  that  we  might  learn  once  for  all  what 


1 86  THE  MAN  WHO   WAS  BORN  BLIND, 

God's  works  are,  and  have  been,  and  will  be,  through  all 
the  ages  of  time,  and  be  sure  that  God  is  what  Christ 
ivas,  and  is  doing  what  Christ  did.  He  shewed  us  the 
Father,  and  made  his  works  manifest. 

How  reasonable  and  welcome  a  light  this  conception 
of  our  Lord's  mission  casts  on  the  miracles  He  wrought, 
the  more  reflective  of  you  will  see  at  a  glance.  The 
Power  that  upholds  Nature,  and  works  through  it,  can  be 
no  part  of  nature,  must  be  supernatural.  And  if  Christ 
came  to  reveal  this  supernatural  Power  to  us,  to  make 
its  works  manifest,  does  not  reason  itself  demand  that 
He  should  do  supernatural  works  .-*  How  else  could  He 
**  make  manifest  "  the  supernatural  power  of  God  ? 

But,  to  the  heart,  this  conception,  Christ's  own  con- 
ception of  his  own  mission,  speaks  even  more  potently 
than  to  the  reason.  For  if  God  is  doing  for  us  now,  and 
always,  exactly  what  Christ  did  for  the  infirm,  the  sin- 
ful, the  lost  and  miserable,  whom  He  met  in  Galilee  and 
Judea  ;  if  He  only  "made  manifest "  the  constant  works 
of  his  Father,  which  of  us  may  not  hope  to  find  in  God  a 
mercy  patient  of  all  our  offences,  strong  enough  to  deliver 
us  from  all  our  sins,  liberal  enough  to  supply  all  our 
wants  ?  If  God  will  treat  iis  as  the  man  Christ  Jesus 
treated  the  diseased  and  guilty  outcasts  on  whom  He 
laid  his  kindly  hands,  sending  them  from  Him  cured  and 
saved,  who  need  despair  whether  of  himself  or  of  his 
neighbours  ?    God  ivill  treat  us  thus ;  for  in  shewing  pity 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD.  187 

to  the  sick  and  sinful  Christ  was  simply  manifesting  the 
works  of  God. 

2.  But  there  is  a  second  thought  in  this  passage  which 
needs  to  be  made  clear.  He  who  said,  "  I  must  work 
the  works  of  him  that  sent  me,"  added,  "  ivhile  it  is  day  I' 
and  explained,  ''for  the  night  comcth  in  ivhich  no  man  can 
work  :  so  long  as  I  am  in  the  ivorUi,  I  am  the  light  of  the 
world.'" 

The  main  flow  of  thought  in  these  words  is  clear 
enough.  For,  obviously,  He  who  both  works  the  works 
of  God  and  makes  them  manifest  must  be  the  Light  of 
the  world,  since  He  enables  men  to  see  the  very  facts 
and  truths  they  most  need  to  know. 

Nor  are  the  words  difficult  in  themselves.  We  may 
easily  catch  and  follow  their  meaning.  For  it  was  prob- 
ably late  in  the  afternoon  when  Jesus  closed  his  discourse 
in  the  temple.  And  as  He  stood  at  the  gate,  looking  at 
the  blind  man,  the  sinking  sun  would  naturally  suggest 
that  another  day's  toil  was  nearly  over,  and  lead  Him  to 
compare  his  whole  life  on  earth  to  a  day  that  must  soon 
close.  In  the  temple  the  Jews  had  taken  up  stones  to 
stone  Him.  And  He  foresaw  that  before  long  they 
would  have  their  wa}-,  that  they  would  compass  the 
death  they  had  already  attempted.  Nay,  He  knew  that 
He  could  not  make  the  works  of  God  manifest,  that  He 
could  not  shew  forth  the  fulness  of  the  divine  redeeming 
Love,  except  as  He  tasted  death  for  every  man,  and  by 


1 88  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

death  conquered  for  us,  as  well  as  for  Himself,  him  that 
had  the  power  of  death.  He  knew  that  his  time  on  earth 
was  short,  that  the  day  would  soon  be  over  :  and  hence 
He  said,  "  I  must  work  the  works  of  Him  that  sent  me," 
— must,  whatever  the  hazard  to  which  it  exposes  me. 
The  day  will  soon  end  ;  and  no  faithful  worker  will 
cease  from  his  task  till  the  night  fall.  So  long  as  I  am 
in  the  world  I  must  prove  myself  the  Light  of  the  world  ; 
I  must  shine  ;  and,  by  shining,  make  the  works  of  God 
manifest. 

The  words  are  simple  enough,  and  the  thought  they 
express  is  also  simple,  natural,  and  pathetic.  And, 
though  two  figures  are  employed,  there  is  no  confusion 
of  figures  to  bewilder  us.  Christ  says  that  He  was  the 
Light  of  the  world,  and  that  He  worked  in  the  world  of 
which  He  was  the  light.  But  what  more  efficient  and 
untiring  worker  is  there  on  any  day  than  the  Sun  which 
makes  and  rules  the  day?  His  light  and  heat  travel 
over  the  whole  earth,  quickening  and  nourishing  innu- 
merable forms  of  life  and  beauty.  Hence  there  is  no 
incongruity  in  our  Lord's  comparing  Himself  at  once  to 
the  sun  which  gives  light  to  all  the  world  and  to  the 
labourer  who  toils  on  till  the  day  is  done.  The  sun  is 
a  labourer.  Christ  was  both  a  labourer  and  a  light,  a 
labourer  because  He  was  a  light. 

What  difficulty  there  is  in  the  passage  springs,  not 
I'rom  its  words  or  figures,  but  from  the  questions  which 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD.  189 

the  words  suggest.  As  we  consider  them,  we  cannot  but 
ask  :  "  Did  Christ,  the  Worker,  cease  to  work,  when  his 
day  on  earth  was  spent  ?  Did  Christ,  the  Sun,  cease  to 
shine  when  He  left  the  world  ?  Is  it  not  true,  rather, 
that  He  never  worked  to  such  purpose  as  in  and  after 
the  night  of  his  death?  that  He  never  shone  with  such 
quickening  heat  as  when  He  left  the  world,  and  rose  to 
heaven,  and  shed  down  his  Spirit  on  the  waiting  and 
expectant  Church?"  We  know  how  such  questions 
must  be  answered.  We  know  that  there  never  was  a 
night  in  which  Christ  could  not  and  did  not  work  ;  and 
that  He  is  still  the  Light  of  the  world,  though  He  is  no 
longer  in  the  world. 

But  if  we  look  carefully  at  the  phrases,  "  I  must  work 
while  it  is  day,"  and,  "The  night  cometh  when  no  man 
can  work,"  are  we  bound  to  take  them  as  meaning  that 
Christ  was  about  to  exchange  day  for  a  night  in  which 
He  could  do  no  manner  of  work  ?  May  we  not,  rather, 
take  them  as  meaning  that  no  man,  who  has  not  done 
the  work  of  the  day  during  the  day,  can  do  that  work  at 
night }  Other  men  may  work  on  other  days  ;  on  other 
days  he  himself  may  do  other  works.  Rut  the  work  of 
the  day  must  be  done  in  the  day  :  he  who  fails  to  do  it 
then  cannot  do  it  afterward.  Opportunities  have  gone 
that  can  never  be  recalled  ;  tasks  have  been  neglected 
which  will  never  come  into  his  hands  again.  And,  there- 
fore, so  long  as  the  Light  of  the  world  was  in  the  world, 


I90  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

his  work  for  the  day  was  to  give  light  ;  and  that  day's 
work  must  be  done  then.  No  opportunity,  no  such 
opportunity  as  this  at  the  temple  gate,  must  be  let  slip. 

This  is  one  sense  in  which  we  may  interpret  our  Lord's 
words.  We  may  take  them  to  mean,  not  that  all  work 
would  be  impossible  when  the  night  of  death  fell,  but 
only  that  the  work  proper  to  his  day  on  earth  must  be 
done  while  He  was  on  the  earth.  And  this  interpreta- 
tion is  confirmed  as  we  consider  the  figures  He  employs. 
He  compares  Himself  to  the  Sun.  But  is  the  sun  put 
out  when  the  night  comes  ?  No,  all  that  happens  is  that 
the  world  turns  from  the  sun.  The  light  is  not  obscured 
or  lessened  in  volume,  much  less  extinguished.  It  shines 
on  with  unabated  force,  though  the  averted  face  of  the 
earth  is  no  longer  illumined  by  its  rays.  When  the  night 
comes,  is  all  the  earth  dark  ?  No,  only  half  the  earth  ; 
the  sun  quits  one  hemisphere  to  shine  upon  the  other. 
When  the  night  comes,  does  the  sun  cease  to  work  even 
on  the  hemisphere  it  has  left  ?  No,  the  light  and  heat 
which  it  has  poured  down  during  the  day  are  treasured 
in  the  earth,  which  remains  the  warmer  because  the  sun 
has  shone  upon  it,  and  in  the  trees  and  flowers,  which 
grow  faster  by  night  than  by  day.  And  from  all  these 
analogies  we  may  infer  that  when  Christ,  the  Light  of 
the  world,  left  the  world.  He  rose  on  other  and  larger 
spheres,  turned  his  face  on  other  worlds  and  systems  ; 
we  may  infer  that  when  He  does  not  shine  on  one  part 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD.  19  r 


of  the  earth,  it  is  that  He  may  visit  other  parts — leaving 
Judea  for  Greece,  for  Italy,  for  Kngland  ;  and  that  even 
when  He  does  not  shine  in  full-orbed  splendour  on  us, 
the  influences  of  his  loving-kindness  and  truth  may 
remain  with  us,  to  make  us  fruitful  in  good  works.  No, 
Christ  did  not  cease  to  labour  when  He  was  shrouded  in 
the  night  of  death.  He  went  and  preached  to  the  spirits 
in  prison.  He  ascended  into  heaven,  and  poured  down 
the  gifts  of  his  Spirit  on  the  very  men  who,  with  lawless 
hands,  had  slain  their  Lord  and  Chrisi.  And  to  this  day 
He  still  works  and  shines,  and  is  still  redeeming  men 
from  their  thraldom  to  evil  into  the  freedom  and  peace 
of  an  obedient  and  holy  life. 

There  is  a  great  wealth  of  ethical  suggestion  in  my 
text  when  once  we  understand  it  ;  but  let  us  take  only 
its  simplest  and  most  obvious  lesson  : — The  work  of  the 
day  must  be  done  in  the  day.  To  Christ  it  was  impossible 
to  neglect  any  opportunity  of  manifesting  the  mercy  and 
compassion  of  God,  or  to  use  any  such  opportunity  with- 
out remembering  that  this  was  the  great  work  of  his 
life.  The  Jew--,  who  had  sought  to  stone  Him,  were  still 
raging  against  Him  in  the  courts  and  colonnades  of  the 
temple.  He  has  just  escaped  from  their  hands.  At  any 
moment  they  may  come  pouring  through  the  gate  in 
pursuit  of  Him.  lUit  there,  on  the  steps  leading  up  to 
the  gate,  lies  a  blind  man,  to  whom  He  may  manifest 
the  will  and  work  of  God.     The  claim   is   imperative. 


192  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

And  He  meets  it  as  calmly,  as  graciously,  as  if  no  danger 
were  near. 

Would  that  ive  could  carry  about  with  us  this  constant 
and  happy  sense  of  duty  !  It  was  no  burden  to  Christ ; 
it  was  his  strength  :  for  as  He  went  about  his  Father's 
business  He  knew  that  no  enemy  could  prevail  against 
Him,  nor  "that  fell  sergeant,  Death,"  arrest  Him,  until 
He  had  finished  the  work  his  Father  had  given  Him  to 
do.  Why,  then,  should  the  sense  of  duty  lie  so  heavily 
on  us  ?  Why  should  it  not  be  our  strength  and  inspira- 
tion ? 

Would  that  ive  could  see  in  every  opportunity  of 
shewing  mercy  and  doing  kindness  a  part  of  the  great 
and  lifelong  work  assigned  us,  and  feel  that  we  dare  not 
let  it  pass,  since  it  will  never  come  again !  As  we  recall 
the  past,  how  many  such  irretrievable  opportunities  have 
we  to  grieve  over  as  lost,  and  lost  for  ever  !  When  the 
work  of  our  life  comes  to  be  summed  up,  how  poor  and 
imperfect  will  it  be  as  compared  with  what  it  might  have 
been  had  we  never  let  occasion  slip  ! 

Let  us  take  the  warning,  then.  The  work  of  the  day 
must  be  done  in  the  day.  The  night  cometh  in  which 
we  can  do  no  part  of  the  work  that  ought  to  have  been 
done  in  the  day  of  life  ;  the  night  on  which  we  must  part 
with  the  money  we  did  not  use  for  the  good  or  relief  of 
our  fellows,  and  the  business  in  which  we  did  not  glorify 
God  by  our  integrity  and  our  generous  consideration  for 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD.  193 

Others,  and  the  home  in  which  our  example  did  not 
always  tell  for  good,  and  the  Church  which  wc  did  little 
to  serve  perhaps,  or  little  as  compared  with  what  we 
should  like  to  remember  then.  For  some  of  us  the  clock 
of  time  has  already  given  its  warning  click,  and  the  hour 
will  soon  strike  :  while  to  none  of  us  can  the  hour  be 
very  distant  in  which  wc  shall  wish  that,  while  we  were 
in  the  world,  wc  had  done  more  and  better  in  it  and  for 
it.  Doubtless  even  the  night  of  death  will  bring  us  tasks 
of  its  own  ;  but  it  will  not  bring  back  the  tasks  and 
opportunities  we  neglected  during  the  day.  Nor  shall 
we  be  so  well  prepared  for  a  faithful  and  happy  discharge 
of  the  tasks  that  await  us  in  death  and  beyond  it  as  we 
should  have  been  had  we  discharged  the  tasks  of  life 
with  a  constant  fidelity.  Let  us  be  up  and  doing,  then. 
Let  us  redeem  the  time  that  is  left.  So  long  as  we  are 
in  the  world  let  us  labour  to  serve  and  bless  the  world, 
ever  working  the  works  of  Him  that  sent  us  ;  that  so 
when  the  night  falls  and  our  work  is  over,  we  may  hear 
the  Master's  "  Well  done,"  and  enter  into  the  joy  of  our 
Lord. 


H 


XIV. 

THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND, 

in.— THE  CURE  OF  THE  BLIND  MAN. 

**  When  he  had  thus  spoken,  he  spat  on  the  ground,  and  made 
clay  of  the  spittle,  and  anointed  the  eyes  of  the  blind  man  with  the 
clay,  and  said  unto  him,  Go,  wash  in  the  pool  of  Siloam  (which  is 
by  interpretation.  Sent).  He  went  his  way  therefore,  and  washed, 
and  came  seeing." — John  ix.  6^  7. 

Tradition  reports  that  an  Eastern  prince  came  from 
afar  to  King  Solomon,  to  ask  of  him  a  word,  or  maxim, 
that  would  make  him  strong  in  misfortune  and  humble 
in  prosperity  ;  and  that  Solomon  the  Wise  gave  him 
this  maxim  :  "  Even  this  also  zvill  pass  away'''  And, 
indeed,  he  who  is  heartily  persuaded  that  even  the 
darkest  day  of  adversity  must  come  to  an  end,  and 
that  even  the  brightest  sun  of  prosperity  must  set,  may 
well  be  strong  in  patience  and  in  humility.  But  there 
are  some  calamities  so  severe,  and  apparently  so  hope- 
less, that,  to  these,  Solomon's  maxim  seems  inapplicable. 
If,  for  example,  any  one  had  said  to  the  man  who  was 


THE  CURE  OF  THE  BUND  MAN.  195 

blind  from  his  birth,  "Be  patient,  Sir,  for  even  this 
calamity  will  pass  away,"  it  is  by  no  means  likely  that 
he  would  have  derived  much  comfort  from  the  saying. 
And  yet,  through  the  grace  of  Christ,  even  this  appa- 
rently hopeless  misfortune  did  pass  away,  and  he  "  came 
seeing"  who  before  was  blind. 

Nay,  more  :  our  Lord  Himself  assures  us  that  his  case 
is  not  an  exception  to  the  rule — that  even  the  worst 
miseries  of  time  will  come  to  an  end — but  an  illustration 
of  it.  He  assures  us  that  calamity  of  every  kind  falls  on 
men,  not  simply  because  they  have  sinned,  but  also  that 
the  works  of  God  should  be  "  made  manifest  in  them," 
that  through  their  very  calamities  they  may  rise  into  a 
clearer  perception  of  God's  will,  and  a  happier  participa- 
tion of  his  goodness.  He  teaches  us  that  God  is  forever 
doing  invisibly  what  He  Himself  did  visibly  while  He 
was  on  earth,  giving  eyes  to  the  blind,  and  ears  to  the 
deaf,  and  feet  to  the  lame,  and  life  to  the  dead  :  He 
teaches,  in  short,  that  in  the  whole  ministry  of  his  gracious 
and  redeeming  life  He  was  simply  doing  the  works  of 
Him  that  sent  Him,  simply  shewing  men  what  God  is 
always  doing  in  secret  for  their  welfare  and  redemption. 

That  the  mission  of  Christ  was  to  declare  the  Father 
and  to  manifest  his  works  was  our  theme  last  Sunday 
morning.  And  now  we  meet  a  new  illustration  of  this 
theme  as  we  proceed  to  consider  the  means  by  which 
Christ  gave  the  blind  man  sight.     Here,  once  more,  He 


196  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

manifests  the  works  of  God.      Here,  too,  He  puts  the 
bhnd  man's  faith  to  the  test. 

I.  Let  us,  first,  consider  this  manifestation  of  the  works 
of  God.  When  He  would  cure  the  blind  man,  Jesus 
mixes  spittle  and  clay — or,  [generalizing  the  terms.  He 
mixes  water  and  earth — anoints  the  man's  eyes,  and  bids 
him  go  and  wash  in  the  pool  of  Siloam.  Now  it  is  very 
obvious  that  no  one  of  these  means  had  in  itself  a  suffi- 
cient virtue  to  cure  a  congenital  blindness.  Neither  then, 
nor  now,  would  a  man  born  blind  gain  sight  merely  by 
having  clay  put  on  his  sightless  eyeballs  and  by  washing 
in  the  sacred  Spring.  It  was  the  power  put  forth  by 
Christ,  it  was  the  volition  of  his  gracious  will,  that  gave 
the  clay  and  the  water  their  healing  virtue.  And  by  tell- 
ing us  that  in  infusing  this  virtue  into  the  clay  and  the 
water  He  was  doing  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  Him  and 
manifesting  the  works  of  God,  Christ  meant,  of  course, 
that  it  is  God  who  is  for  ever  healing  men,  not  only  by 
the  medicinal  virtues  He  infuses  into  air  and  water,  and 
the  vegetable  and  mineral  products  of  the  earth,  but  also 
by  the  gracious  and  curative  volitions  of  his  almighty 
will.  What  He  means  is  that  God  is  always  doing 
invisibly  what  He  then  did  before  the  eyes  of  men.  Just 
as  He  elsewhere  teaches  us  that  men  do  not  live  by 
bread  alone,  but  by  the  quickening  and  creative  word  of 
God,  by  the  secret  effluences  of  his  living  Will  which 
come  to  us  in  and  through  the  food  we  eat,  so,  here.  He 


THE  CURE  OF  THE  BUND  MAN.  197 

teaches  us  that  men  are  healed,  not  by  drugs  and  medi- 
cine alone,  but  by  the  volitions  of  that  Will  which  gives 
being  and  efficacy  to  all  things. 

According  to  Him,  in  short,  we  owe  life  and  all  that 
nourishes  life,  health  and  all  that  promotes  or  restores 
health,  not  merely  to  the  natural  processes  of  which 
Sciences  takes  account,  but  also  to  the  Divine  energy 
which  works  in  and  through  them.  And  thus  He  com- 
pels us  to  choose  between  the  two  theories  of  Nature, 
the  material  and  the  spiritual,  which  have  long  divided 
the  thoughts  of  men. 

According  to  the  material  theory.  Nature  is  simply  a 
vast  complex  of  physical  forces  acting  on  fixed  and  in- 
variable laws.  There  is  no  Spirit  informing  and  animating 
the  universal  frame.  There  is  no  God  in  Nature  and 
above  it,  working  through  it,  controlling,  modifying,  en- 
forcing its  laws.  But  no  sooner  do  we  carefully  examine 
this  theory  than  it  instantly  reveals  the  gravest  and  most 
surprising  defects.  Glibly  as  we  talk  of  "  causes  "  and 
"  forces  "  and  "  laws,"  Science  knows  of  no  final  and 
sufficient  cause,  no  force  which  is  more  than  an  hypo- 
thesis, no  law  which  has  any  power  to  assert  itself  All 
it  knows  is  certain  sequences  which  reveal  themselves 
invariably  in  the  phenomena  and  course  of  Nature,  and 
which  seem  as  if  some  rule  or  law  had  been  laid  down 
which  they  are  compelled  to  observe.  But  as  to  who,  or 
what,  laid  down  that  law  and  enforces  it.  Science  has  no 


1 98  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

word  to  say.  It  speaks,  indeed,  and,  owing  to  the  im- 
perfection of  human  language,  vmst  speak  of  the  force, 
or  law,  of  gravitation  in  the  inorganic  universe,  and 
speaks  of  it  at  times  as  if  it  were  the  cause  of  certain 
phenomena  ;  but  question  any  man  of  Science,  and  he 
will  tell  you  that  it  is  not  a  true  cause,  but  simply 
an  hypothesis,  a  generalization,  which  best  accounts 
for  the  facts  which  Science  has  observed.  So,  again, 
with  the  chemical  laws  of  affinity  and  repulsion.  These 
are  not  real  forces  or  causes,  they  are  simply  certain 
modes  or  sequences  in  which  the  chemical  phenomena 
present  themselves  to  the  human  mind.  So,  too,  the 
vital  processes  of  the  human  frame  seem  to  indicate  the 
presence  of  a  vital  force  which  acts  according  to  certain 
rules  ;  but  no  man  has  yet  discovered  this  force,  or  can 
explain  its  origin,  or  even  say  in  what  it  consists.  Things 
happen  so,  is  all  that  Science  can  say ;  but  tvJiy  they 
happen  so,  or  zvJio  or  what  it  is  that  makes  tJiem  happen 
so,  are  questions  beyond  its  reach. 

There  are,  indeed,  men  of  science  who  assume  that 
physical  phenomena  can  have  none  but  physical  causes. 
But,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  this  assumption  carries  them 
beyond  their  proper  province,  and  flics  in  the  face  of 
experience  as  well  as  of  religion.  Religion  teaches  us 
that  God  is  immanent  in  Nature  ;  that  in  Him,  and  by 
Him,  and  for  Him,  all  things  consist ;  that  He  is  the 
first  great  Cause  ;  that  it  is  his  will  which  gives  vitality 


THE  CURE  OF  THE  BLIND  MAN,  199 

and  cflficacy  to  all  the  processes  of  Nature  and  of  human 
life.  And  does  not  our  experience,  so  far  as  it  goes,  con- 
firm the  teaching  of  religion?  does  it  not  prove  that  all 
the  so-called  forces  and  laws  of  Nature  may  be  modified 
and  controlled  by  a  personal  will  ?  We  do  not  enough 
consider  the  vast  extent  to  which  the  volitions  of  man's 
will  control  and  modify  the  course  of  Nature,  what  enor- 
mous and  almost  incredible  changes  they  have  produced 
and  are  still  producing  throughout  the  world.  Left  to 
itself,  i.e.,  left  to  the  unchecked  operation  of  Nature, 
England  might  have  been  a  mere  jungle,  or  forest, 
haunted  by  wild  beasts.  But  for  centuries  the  will  of 
man  has  been  at  work  upon  it,  gradually  uprooting  the 
herbs  and  t/ees  which  were  of  no  service  or  of  little 
service  to  the  race,  and  replacing  them  with  fruitful  trees 
and  a  waving  wealth  of  corn.  The  wild  beasts,  noxious 
to  man,  have  been  tamed  or  extirpated  ;  breeds  have 
been  crossed  and  developed,  till  our  modern  horse,  or  ox, 
or  sheep,  or  dog,  is  as  superior  to  the  original  stock  as  a 
field  of  pedigree  wheat  to  wild  corn.  Man  has  hewed 
and  blasted  the  rocks,  and  compelled  them  to  yield  their 
treasures  of  stone  for  his  service,  and  has  burned  the  clay 
of  the  fields  into  bricks,  that  he  might  build  houses  and 
streets,  palaces  and  temples.  He  has  rifled  the  bowels 
of  the  earth  of  its  hidden  wealth  of  iron  and  coal,  and 
turned  them  to  the  uses  of  industry  in  a  thousand  different 
forms.    He  has  made  the  very  elements  his  servants,  and 


200  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

the  lightnings  his  messengers,  compelling  them  to  draw 
his  loads,  turn  his  looms,  drive  his  ships,  and  convey  his 
thoughts  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Can  any  man  survey 
tliis  changed  and  wealthy  England  of  ours,  and  mark 
how  the  will  of  man  has  modified  and  controlled  the 
course  of  Nature  over  every  inch  of  it,  and  say  that 
material  phenomena  can  have  none  but  material  causes ; 
unless  indeed  he  assume  man's  will  to  be  itself  material, 
• — in  which  case  the  universal  human  consciousness  rises 
in  revolt  against  him  ?  Can  any  one  note  in  how  many 
ways  man  has  learned  to  rule  Nature  by  submitting  to 
her,  and  then  affirm  that  almighty  God,  Maker  of  heaven 
and  earth,  if  there  be  such  a  God,  cannot  possibly  be  the 
central  and  final  cause  of  all  that  exists?  Does  not 
reason,  does  not  common  sense,  suggest  that,  if  the  puny 
will  of  man  has  done  so  much,  the  almighty  will  of  God 
may  have  done  infinitely  more  ? 

Nay,  does  not  the  assumption  that  it  is  the  will  of  God 
which  acts  through  all  the  phenomena  of  the  universe, 
giving  life  to  all  that  lives,  giving  efficiency  and  law  to 
all  the  processes  of  the  inorganic  world,  supply  the  very 
defect  of  which  Science  is  conscious  ?  Does  it  not  supply 
that  true  cause,  that  real  force,  that  vital  energy,  of  which 
Science  finds  so  many  indications,  but  which  it  is  never- 
theless unable  to  discover? 

Yes  ;  to  this  conclusion  must  even  science  come  at 
last.      It   will   find   the  cause,  the   forces,  the  laws  of 


THE  CURE  OF  THE  BLIND  MAN. 


vvhicli  it  speaks  in  the  will  of  God.  It  will  sec  Him 
in  Nature,  the  Source  and  Fountain  of  all  being,  of  all 
life.  So  at  least  ive  must  believe,  if  we  accept  Christ  as 
our  Teacher.  For  He  affirms  that  in  healing  the  blind 
man,  as  in  all  his  works  of  mercy.  He  was  but  making 
manifest  the  works  of  God — doing  publicly  what  God 
is  always  doing  privily,  declaring  and  demonstrating  his 
Father  to  be  the  Maker,  Controller,  and  Sustainer  of  all 
things,  whether  in  heaven  or  on  earth. 

2.  But  let  us  turn  to  our  second  point,  and  mark  how 
the  blind  man's  faith  was  put  to  the  test.  He  had  heard 
what  Christ  said  to  the  Disciples  before  He  spake  to 
Jiini.  He  had  heard,  therefore,  that  Christ  was  about  to 
work  a  work  of  God.  He  had  heard  that  Christ  was 
"  the  light  of  the  world,"  and  had  probably  inferred  that 
Christ  was  about  to  prove  Himself  the  Light  of  all  men, 
by  giving  light  to  him.  But  Christ  does  not  straight- 
way  give  him  light.  He  hints,  indeed,  that  a  cure  was 
about  to  be  wrought  by  anointing  the  blind  eyes  :  even 
the  "spittle"  would  convey  a  hope  of  cure,  since  human 
saliva  was  then  accounted  medicinal  in  many  cases  of 
blindness.  And  yet  to  daub  the  eyes  with  clay  would 
seem  more  likely  to  cause  blindness  than  to  cure  it. 
And  no  special  medicinal  value  was  attributed  to  the 
Pool  of  Siloam.  To  bid  the  blind  man  go,  with  clay 
plastered  over  his  eyes,  and  wash  it  ofT  in  the  spring 
that  was  called  Sent,  was  therefore  to  put  him  to  the 


202  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

proof:  it  was  to  try  whether  he  had  confidence  enough 
in  Christ  to  do  his  bidding,  even  when  He  bade  him 
use  unhkely  means  for  the  recovery  of  his  sight  We 
know  very  well  that  Christ  could  have  opened  his  eyes 
with  a  word  ;  and  hence  we  are  compelled  to  believe 
that  He  employed  this  singular  and  indirect  method  of 
healing  in  order  to  put  the  man  to  the  test.  And  it 
speaks  well  for  the  blind  man  that  he  stood  the  test. 
He  asked  no  such  question,  raised  no  such  objection,  as 
that  of  Naaman,  the  Syrian  leper.  He  does  as  he  is 
bid  without  hesitation,  without  reluctance. 

And  in  this  he  sets  us  an  example.  For  when  we 
seek  spiritual  good  at  the  hands  of  Christ,  He  often 
gives  us  some  command,  or  imposes  some  condition, 
the  meaning  and  value  of  which  we  do  not  discover 
till  we  have  met  the  condition  and  obeyed  the  command. 
It  would  be  easy  to  give  many  illustrations  of  this  in- 
direct method  ;  but  it  would  be  hard  to  find  a  more 
pertinent  illustration  than  one  which  is  just  now  much 
in  the  thoughts  of  men.  The  first  and  great  command- 
ment of  the  Gospel,  as  well  as  of  the  Law,  is :  "  Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thine  heart,  and 
thy  neighbour  as  thyself."  To  almost  every  man  the 
commandment  commends  itself  as  the  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  practical  religion.  And  many  are  saying  just 
now  :  "  What  do  we  want  with  more  than  this  ?  What 
do  we  want  with  theology  }     Why  should  we  ask  men 


THE  CURE  OF  THE  BLIND  MAN.  203 

to  believe  what  ive  believe  about  God,  and  Christ,  and 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  the  state  of  retribution 
which  lies  beyond  the  grave  ?  If  they  love  God  and 
man,  is  not  that  enough  ?  Why,  then,  demand  more  of 
them  ?  On  this  point  we  all  agree.  Were  we  to  ask 
nothing  more  of  our  neighbours,  we  might  all  come  into 
a  sacred  unity.  liut  the  very  moment  we  bring  forward 
theology,  and  demand  belief  in  this  doctrine  or  that, 
we  divide  them ;  they  fly  apart,  and  unity  becomes 
impossible."    . 

This  is  the  tone  taken  by  many  good  men  just  now, 
and  which,  I  suppose,  we  are  all  tempted  to  take.  Max 
Miiller,  for  example,  in  a  lecture  on  Christian  Missions 
which  he  delivered  in  Westminster  Abbey  some  years 
ago,  affirmed  that  missionaries  make  a  grave  mistake 
when  they  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  heathen,  when  they 
tell  them  that  Christ  came  forth  from  the  bosom  of  God 
to  reveal  the  love  of  God  to  sinful  men,  to  redeem  them 
and  .bring  them  back  to  Him.  "'True  Christianity,'  he 
said,  '  lies  not  in  our  belief,  but  in  our  love — in  our  love 
of  God,  and  in  our  love  of  man,  founded  on  our  love  of 
God.'  This  rule  of  love  would  commend  itself  to  men 
of  goodwill  in  every  land,  whatever  the  creed  they  hold. 
Why,  then,  should  we  perplex  and  alienate  them  by 
demanding  faith  in  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God  and  the 
Saviour  of  the  world  ?  Let  us  rather  teach  them  that 
love  to  God  and  man  is  the  substance  of  all  true  religion." 


204  THE  MAN  WHO   WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

Now,  it  is  impossible,  I  think,  to  listen  to  such  words 
as  these  without  a  good  deal  of  sympathy.  For  we  too 
believe  that  the  love  of  God  and  man  is  the  essential 
substance  of  religion.  And  yet,  obviously,  this  method 
of  teaching  religion  was  not  Christ's  method.  His  first 
demand  of  men  was  not  love,  but  faith,  or  trust.  The 
angels  of  the  Advent  announced  the  birth  of  a  Saviour 
who  should  redeem  men  from  their  sins.  And  Christ 
demanded  that  men  should  believe  Him  to  be  that 
Saviour.  "  Believe  on  Me  ;  believe  that,  seeing  Me,  ye 
see  the  Father  ;  believe  that  God  is  what  I  am,  as  kind 
and  merciful,  as  able  to  heal,  as  willing  to  forgive  and 
save  :  believe  that  I  do  but  shew  you  in  my  works  what 
He  is  always  doing  for  your  welfare  and  redemption  ; " 
— this,  as  you  know,  was  his  constant  claim,  as  it  was 
also  the  claim  which  his  disciples  made  for  Him.  And 
men  did  not  always  find  it  easy  to  meet  the  claim  then, 
any  more  than  they  do  now.  He  was  by  no  means 
the  kind  of  Saviour  for  whom  they  looked.  It  seemed 
unlikely,  and  even  incredible,  that  God  was  in  Him, 
reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself  Yet  none  the  less 
He  pressed  the  claim,  and  demanded  faith  of  them 
rather  than  love. 

Why  ?  Simply,  I  suppose,  because  men  would  never 
have  known  what  love  was  like  but  for  Him,  and  their 
faith  in  Him.  Had  He  come  among  us  simply  to  j^j' 
"  Love  God  and  man,"  and  permitted  men  to  put  their 


THE  CURE  OF  THE  BLIND  MAN.  205 

own  interpretation  on  the  word  "  love,"  would  the  world 
have  hated  Him  as  it  did  ?  To  that  message  the  world 
had  listened  with  composure,  and  even  with  admiration, 
before  He  came,  and  had  been  little  the  better  for  it. 
It  was  because  He  shewed  them  what  the  love  of  God 
was  like — how  pure  and  holy  it  was,  capable  of  inflicting 
any  pain  which  would  redeem  men  from  their  sins,  and 
demanded  of  them  a  love  like  his  own, — that  the  world 
hated  Him  and  hung  Him  on  a  tree.  He  has  put  a 
new  meaning  into  the  old  commandment.  He  has 
shewn  us  that  the  love  of  God  will  go  all  lengths  and 
endure  all  pains  to  redeem  us  from  sin  to  holiness. 
He  has  shewn  us  that  to  love  God  and  man  aright  is  to 
be  willing  to  lay  down  life  itself  in  order  to  obey  the 
holy  will  of  God  and  to  serve  our  neighbour.  And, 
therefore.  He  demands  faith  of  us  before  He  demands 
love — faith  in  the  true  love,  faith  that  we  may  possess 
ourselves  of  the  true  love.  We  must  believe  in  Him, 
believe  in  his  love  as  at  once  a  revelation  of  the  love  of 
God  and  the  ideal  and  pattern  of  human  love,  before 
we  can  love  either  God  or  man  as  He  would  have  us 
love  them. 

This  is  why  He  demands  faith,  faith  in  Him  and  in 
the  God  in  Him,  even  before  He  demands  love.  And 
all  history  and  experience  shew  his  method  to  be  the 
true  one.  Men  have  never  yet  been  raised  into  good- 
ness by  the  power  of  an  ethical  maxim,  such  as  "  Love 


2o6  THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  BORN  BLIND. 

God  and  man  "  would  be  apart  from  all  else  that  Christ 
taught ;  but  they  have  often  been  raised  to  goodness  by 
the  power  of  a  simple  and  sincere  faith  in  Him.  We 
want  to  make  the  command,  "  Thou  shalt  love  God  and 
thy  neighbour  "  the  law  of  all  human  life.  And,  to  some, 
it  may  seem  an  unlikely  and  roundabout  way  of  reach- 
ing our  end  to  teach  that  Christ  came  forth  from  the 
Father  to  shew  the  Father  to  us,  to  live  our  life  as  it 
ought  to  be  lived,  to  die  for  our  sins,  to  open  heaven 
and  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  us  ;  and  to  insist  that 
men  must  believe  all  this  before  they  can  do  his  will. 
But  how  shall  the  Buddhist,  who  can  hardly  be  said  to 
believe  in  a  personal  God  at  all,  or  how  can  the  Moham- 
medan, who  hopes  that  God  will  reward  his  piety  with 
a  paradise  of  sensual  pleasures,  feel  anything  that  we 
should  think  worthy  of  the  name  of  "love,"  or  frame 
any  conception  of  God  that  will  lift  him  out  of  his 
sensual  addictions  ? 

Unlikely  as  it  may  seem,  then,  faith,  faith  in  Christ 
as  shewing  God  to  us  and  making  his  works  manifest, 
is  the  way  to  love, — to  that  love  of  God  and  man  which 
is  alone  worthy  of  the  name.  Hence  He  demands  faith 
of  every  one  of  us  ;  and  once  more  He  presses  this 
demand  on  us.  We  must  believe,  if  we  are  to  be  raised 
into  the  life  of  righteousness  and  charity.  We  must 
believe  in  Christ,  believe  in  the  God  whom  He  reveals, 
believe  that  God  is  ever  working  through  all  the  pro- 


THE  CURE  OF  THE  BLIND  MAN.  207 

cesses  of  nature,  all  the  chanj^es  of  providence,  all  the 
gifts  of  his  grace,  for  our  good — to  nourish,  and  heal, 
and  save  us.  And  if  we  sincerely  believe  in  Him  as  the 
Fountain  of  all  life  and  goodness,  it  will  not  be  hard  for 
us  to  love  Him,  or  even  to  love  the  neighbour  whom  He 
loves,  and  for  whose  welfare,  as  for  ours,  He  is  ever  at 
work. 


XV. 


THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE  A    WARRANT 
OF  IMMORTALITY. 

"  Is  it  not  lawful  for  me  to  do  what  I  will  with  mine  own  ;  or  is 
thine  eye  evil  because  I  am  good?" — Matthew  xx.  15. 

In  the  Parable  of  which  this  Verse  forms  part  we  have 
a  twofold  illustration  of  the  inequalities  of  the  human 
lot.  The  first  illustration  is  open  and  palpable — too 
obvious  for  the  most  cursory  attention  to  miss.  A 
householder,  or  husbandman,  goes  out  into  the  market- 
place early  in  the  morning,  at  mid-morning,  at  midday, 
in  the  afternoon,  and,  finally  in  the  evening,  only  an 
hour  before  the  close  of  day,  to  "  hire  labourers  into  his 
vineyard."  The  labourers,  therefore,  give  him  respec- 
tively one,  three,  six,  nine,  and  twelve  hours'  work.  And 
yet,  when  pay-time  comes,  they  all,  without  distinction, 
receive  the  same  sum — the  denarius  which  was  then 
thought  a  liberal  wage  for  a  full  day's  work!  Those 
who  had  toiled  longest  get,  indeed,  all  that  they  have 
earned  ;  but,  since  those  who  had  given  much  less  toil 


THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE.  2oci 

get  as  much  as  they  do,  they,  very  naturally,  feel  them- 
selves aggrieved,  and  hold  that  he,  who  has  shewn 
himself  so  liberal  to  their  comrades,  has  been  illiberal, 
if  not  unjust,  to  them.  If  they  had  no  claim  to  more 
than  they  had  received,  had  they  not  some  claim  to  an 
equality  of  treatment  with  the  rest  ?  Did  not  common 
fairness  demand  that  one  measure  should  be  meted  out 
to  them  all  ? 

I  think  we  must  all  be  conscious  of  a  certain  sympathy 
with  these  first-comers,  and  confess  that,  had  we  stood 
in  their  place,  while  we  might  have  admitted  that  we 
had  got  all  we  had  bargained  for,  our  full  lawful  wage, 
we  should  nevertheless  have  felt  that  we  had  been 
hardly  dealt  with,  in  that  we  had  not  been  treated  as 
well  as  the  after-comers.  "  It  is  not  fair,"  we  should 
have  said ;  and  though,  in  our  cooler  after-moments  we 
might  have  acknowledged  that  no  real  wrong  had  been 
done  us,  we  should  have  stuck  to  our  verdict,  "  All  the 
same,  it  wasn't  fair,  and  we  won't  work  for  him  again." 

I  believe  we  were  meant  to  feel  this  inequality,  and 
even  to  resent  it,  at  least  until  we  come  to  understand 
it.  For  ivc  find,  as  the  Hebrew  Preacher  found  long 
ago,  many  of  these  irritating  inequalities  in  human  life, 
and  we  are  just  as  much  irritated  b)'  them  as  he  was. 
We  feel,  we  cannot  but  feel,  as  he  felt  when  he  saw  the 
same  chance  happen  to  the  evil  and  to  the  good,  and 
the  same  end  come  to  the  just  and  to  the  unjust.  And 
15 


THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE 


when  we  see  tJiis  man  much  happier,  or  much  more 
fortunate,  than  that,  although  he  is  not  a  bit  better — 
although  perhaps  he  is  not  half  so  good,  no,  nor  half  so 
wise  or  half  so  able — our  faith  in  the  justice  of  God,  in 
the  equity  of  Providence,  is  shaken,  and  we  are  tempted 
to  repeat  the  old  murmur,  "  The  ways  of  the  Lord  are 
not  equal." 

There  is  another  illustration  of  this  provoking  in- 
equality in  our  Parable  which  is  not  so  obvious,  but 
which  comes  home  to  our  hearts  the  very  moment  it  is 
pointed  out — an  illustration  of  the  inequality  of  our 
ivork  as  well  as  of  our  wages.  For  if  at  the  first  glance 
we  sympathize  with  the  resentment  of  the  labourers  who 
were  earliest  called  into  the  vineyard,  as  we  consider  the 
Parable  we  begin  to  pity  the  poor  fellows  who  were  left 
standing,  unhired,  in  the  market-place  till  the  day  was 
far  spent,  or  even  till  it  was  well-nigh  gone.  What  had 
tJiey  done  that  so  hard  a  lot  should  have  been  assigned 
to  them  ?  There  they  stood,  tools  in  hand,  willing  to 
work,  longing  for  work,  black  despair  gathering  in  their 
hearts  as  the  day  drew  on,  and  brought  no  better  pros- 
pect than  that  of  trudging  back,  empty-handed,  to  their 
foodless  homes,  where  patient  or  impatient  wives  awaited 
them  and  hungry  children.  The  more  we  consider  their 
case,  and  permit  it  to  recall  the  many  similar  cases 
which  afflict  our  modern  life,  the  more  deeply  we  feel 
the  rough  brutality  of  the  husbandman's  question,  "Why 


A  WARRANT  OF  IMMORTALITY. 


stand  yc  here  /V/A;  all  the  day  long  ?"  and  the  infinite 
pathos  of  their  reply,  "  Because  no  man  hath  hired  us." 
And  in  this  mood  it  is  a  welcome  surprise  to  us  to  hear 
the  gruff  but  mellow-hearted  husbandman  commanding 
his  steward  to  pay  these  last  the  same  wage  as  the  first  ; 
and  we  are  even  a  little  angry  with  the  very  men  whose 
resentment  we  once  shared.  We  say,  "  They  jniist  have 
known  how  hard  work  was  to  get.  They  must  also 
have  known  how  much  harder  it  is  to  lack  work  than  to 
do  it.  And,  therefore,  they  should  have  been  the  last 
men  in  the  world  to  grudge  their  unlucky  rivals  the  little 
bit  of  good  fortune  which  befell  them." 

This,  then,  is  a  parable  on  the  inequalities  of  human 
life.  It  raises  a  whole  class  of  questions — and  a  very 
large  class  it  is — by  which  we  are  perplexed,  and  moved 
to  distrust  the  providence  of  God,  if  not  to  challenge  his 
justice.  Why  does  one  man  get  so  much  more  than  he 
deserves,  and  another  so  much  less  }  Why  is  one  man 
happy  and  successful  in  his  work  from  the  first,  while 
another  must  wait  long  before  he  can  get  any  remuner- 
ative work  to  do,  or  has  all  his  life  long  to  do  a  work  he 
does  not  like,  or  a  work  which  yields  no  scope  for  his 
finer  energies  and  capacities  ?  Why  is  one  man  hungry, 
and  another  full  ?  Why  is  one  man  born  to  health  and 
the  happy  temperament  which  is  at  once  a  presage  and 
a  cause  of  success,  while  another  is  born  to  sickness,  or 
stamped    with   some    infirmity  which  curtails  both  his 


THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE 


power  and  his  usefulness  ?  Why  is  one  man  rich  in 
friends,  while  another,  comparatively  poor,  is  called  to 
part  even  with  the  friend  that  he  loves  best  ? 

Time  would  fail  me  even  to  enumerate  all  the  ques- 
tions which  the  inequalities  of  the  human  lot  provoke  ; 
but  I  have  said  enough  if  I  have  suggested  to  you  how 
many  these  questions  are,  and  how  grave.  For  you 
must  observe,  further,  that  for  many  of  these  inequalities 
we  are  quite  unable  to  account.  I  do  not  deny  that,  in 
a  rough  general  way,  every  man  receives  according  to 
his  deeds,  according  to  his  deserts,  even  here  and  now, 
or  that  many  of  us  get  a  great  deal  more  than  we  have 
deserved.  Nor  do  I  doubt  that  much  of  the  good  or  ill 
fortune,  which  is  inexplicable  to  us,  may  be  perfectly 
explicable  to  a  cool  bystander,  who  can  bring  an  un- 
biassed eye  to  the  problem,  and  see  how,  sometimes  by 
our  faults  and  defects,  and  sometimes  by  our  very 
virtues,  we  offend  the  world  around  us,  chafe  against  the 
inexorable  conditions  of  our  lot,  and  work  our  own 
harm  or  ensure  our  own  defeat.  But,  none  the  less,  I 
maintain  that,  amid  the  infinite  complexities  of  human 
life,  there  are  many  for  which  we  can  find  no  law,  assign 
no  sufficient  reason,  so  long  as  we  look  only  at  the 
things  which  are  seen  and  temporal.  History  is  full, 
and  life  is  full,  of  problems  which  no  wisdom,  unaided 
by  faith,  can  solve.  The  wrongs  of  innocence,  the  de- 
feats of  virtue,  the   impunity  of  crime,  the  success  of 


A   WARRANT  OF  IMMORTALITY.  213 

impudence,  the  triumph  of  vice ;  dih'fjcnce  compelled  to 
stand  idle  and  starving  all  the  day  long,  while  indolence 
is  lapped  in  luxury  ;  wisdom  appealing  to  ignorance  in 
vain,  or  casting  its  pearls  before  the  herd  only  to  be 
turned  upon  by  the  herd  and  rent  ;  learning  and  capa- 
city thrust  aside  by  insolence  and  craft  ;  love  unreturncd, 
despised,  or  weeping  by  an  open  grave,  while  imperious 
selfishness  is  caressed  or  waited  on  with  timid  obser- 
vance ;  pure  religion  hiding  her  unhonoured  head  in 
secret  places,  while  the  temples  of  superstition  and 
hypocrisy  are  thronged  with  flatterers  : — all  these  are 
phrases  which  represent  facts,  and  facts  which  often 
lead  u.s  to  doubt  the  goodness  or  the  power  of  God. 

And  yet,  mark  you,  you  do  not  get  rid  of  these  facts 
by  doubting  or  denying  the  existence  of  God  ;  nor  are 
you  any  nearer  either  to  a  reasonable  account  of  them 
or  to  a  balm  for  the  wounds,  a  consolation  for  the 
sorrows,  they  inflict.  The  inequalities  of  life  do  not 
depend  on  his  existence,  or  our  recognition  of  his 
existence.  Say  there  is  no  God,  and  you  can  no  longer 
challenge  his  justice,  but  the  injustice  of  which  you 
complain  is  not  removed  or  lessened.  You  have  not 
accounted  for  it,  or  begun  to  account.  It  is  no  easier  to 
bear,  or  to  explain.  Nay,  say  there  is  no  God  who  will 
one  day  redress  every  wrong,  and  set  all  things  straight, 
and  you  simply  render  the  case  more  hopeless,  the 
problem  more  insoluble,  the  facts  more  intolerable. 


214  THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE 

And  here,  strange  to  say,  we  come  on  the  true  answer 
to  an  old  objection  to  the  miracles  of  Christ,  which  it 
may  be  worth  while  to  notice  in  passing  since  it  has  been 
revived  and  restated  in  one  of  the  leading  magazines  for 
this  month.i  Christ  could  not  have  wrought  miracles, 
we  are  told,  or,  if  He  did.  He  could  not  be  divine, 
because  if  He  were  the  Son  of  God  and  wrought  the 
miracles  attributed  to  Him,  they  would  simply  prove 
that  He  coiild  feed  and  heal  us  all,  and  save  us  from 
pain,  bereavement,  and  death,  and  yet  does  not  care  to  do 
it.  But  who  doubts  that  God,  if  there  be  a  God,  could, 
if  He  pleased,  feed,  heal,  and  deliver  us  all  from  death : 
and  yet  does  He  do  it  ?  The  argument,  if  it  proves 
anything,  proves  that  Christ  zuas  the  Son  of  God,  since, 
possessing  the  same  power  with  the  Father,  like  the 
Father  He  refrained  from  using  it. 

He  recognized  the  inequalities  of  human  life,  and  felt 
for  the  pain  and  grief  which  they  occasion,  and  yet, 
except  in  a  few  isolated  cases.  He  did  not  redress  them. 
Must  He  not,  then,  have  seen  some  reason  for  them 
which  we  do  not  see  ?  And  may  we  not  expect  to  find 
some  solution  of  the  problem,  or  some  glimpse  of  a 
solution,  in  his  words  when  He  makes  these  perplexing 
inequalities  the  main  theme  of  his  discourse  ? 

There  is  such  a  glimpse,  I  believe,  in  the  Parable,  and 

'  In  Mr.  Voysey's  very  crude  and  offensive  article  in  The 
Fortnightly  for  January,  1887. 


A  WA  ERA  NT  OF  I  MM  OR  TALI  TV.  215 

even  in  the  Verse,  before  us,  though,  I  confess,  it  docs 
not  force  itself  on  our  attention. 

I.  Indeed  the  first  half  of  this  Question  seems  to  shed 
darkness  on  our  thoughts  rather  than  light.  "  Is  it  not 
laiu/ui  for  vie  to  do  what  I  %vill  luith  mine  ozcn  ?  " — you 
know  to  what  base  uses  the  landlord,  the  monopolist, 
the  slaveowner,  the  autocrat,  and  even  the  theologian, 
have  put  this  phrase.  You  know  how  fond  they  have 
been  of  appealing  to  it  :  how  ready  to  find  in  it  a 
sanction  for  all  the  abuses  of  wealth  and  power,  without 
any  too  careful  investigation  into  what  was  really  their 
own,  and  in  what  sense  it  was  their  own.  I  cannot  and 
need  not  recapitulate  these  misapplications,  or  answer 
them  one  by  one.  There  is  a  common,  an  authoritative, 
an  overwhelming  answer  to  them  all  in  the  Verse  itself. 
For  this  Verse  does  not  consist,  as  we  might  infer  from 
the  Authorized  Version,  of  two  questions,  but  of  one,  as 
we  learn  from  the  Revised  Version  or  from  a  glance  at 
the  Original  ;  and  that  which  Christ  has  joined  together 
we  have  no  right  to  put  asunder.  The  whole  question 
runs  :  "  Is  it  not  lawful  for  me  to  do  what  I  will  with 
mine  own,  or  is  tJiine  eye  evil  beeause  I  am  good?  "  And 
the  implication  is  obvious  to  the  meanest  capacity.  It  is 
only  lawful  for  a  man  to  do  what  he  will  with  his  own 
when  he  is  good ;  when,  like  the  householder,  he  renders 
to  no  man  less  than  his  due,  and  to  many  men  more 
than  their  due.     It  is  only  lawful  for  a  man  to  do  what 


2i6  THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE 

he  will  when  his  will  is  a  good  will,  a  beneficent  will, 
when  he  is  bent  on  doing  good  with  that  which  he  calls 
his  own,  when  he  is  striving  to  make  the  best  use  of  it ; 
when  his  conscience  is  king  ;  when  he  is  contemplating 
and  aiming  to  promote,  not  his  own  selfish  interests, 
but  the  welfare  of  his  fellows.  If  any  landlord  be 
sincerely  convinced  that  it  is  for  the  common  weal  that 
he  should  rack-rent  his  tenants  ;  if  any  slaveowner  be 
honestly  persuaded  that  he  can  do  nothing  better  for 
his  negro  neighbours  than  keep  them  in  bondage,  and 
flog  or  shoot  them  if  they  run  away  from  it  ;  if  any 
despot  is  disinterestedly  sure  that,  for  the  well-being  of 
his  subjects,  he  must  deny  them  all  liberty  of  speech  and 
action,  we  may  wonder  how  he  should  have  reached  his 
conclusion,  but  we  must  admit  the  validity  of  his  argu- 
ment— for  him.  But  if  he  so  much  as  suspect  that  he 
has  simply  his  own  interests  in  view — his  own  ease, 
influence,  wealth,  pomp,  or  glory — he  has  no  longer  any 
right  to  do  what  he  will  with  his  own,  simply  because 
his  will  is  not  a  good  or  kindly  will.  Only  the  man  who 
denies  to  none  of  his  fellows  all  that  they  can  fairly 
claim  of  him,  while  to  some  he  gives  more  than  they 
can  claim,  has  any  right  to  appeal  to  the  example  of  the 
Householder,  or  to  find  a  sanction  in  the  words  of  my 
text.  "  I  may  do  what  I  will  with  mine  own,"  is  not  a 
Christian  principle.  The  true  Christian  principle  is,  "  I 
may  do  w  hat  1  will  when  my  will  is  a  good  will,  when  it 


A   WARRANT  OF  IMMORTALITY.  217 

is  bent  on  the  welfare,  the  benefit,  of  my  neighbours, 
when  I  use  mine  own  for  just  and  gracious  ends."  And 
it  will  be  well  for  us  to  bear  this  principle  in  mind 
whenever  we  are  tempted  to  make  a  selfish,  an  unjust, 
or  a  cruel,  use  of  our  property,  our  influence,  or  of  any- 
thing that  is  ours. 

2.  But  this  again,  like  the  argument  on  the  miracles 
of  Christ,  is  only  by  the  way,  and  I  touch  upon  it  simply 
to  make  my  exposition  of  the  Verse  as  complete  as  I 
can.  Our  main  theme  is  the  irritating  and  inexplicable 
inequalities  of  human  life  ;  and  our  main  inquiry,  What 
light  docs  the  Verse  throw  upon  them.  It  throws  this 
light  upon  them.  If  we  are  to  hear  the  voice  of  God  in 
this  Parable,  and  to  substitute  the  almighty  Ruler  of  the 
universe  for  the  Householder,  and  the  inequalities  of  our 
lot  for  his  unequal  treatment  of  his  labourers  both  in  the 
market  and  in  the  vineyard,  then  our  Lord  is  teaching 
us  that  God  only  does  what  He  will  with  his  o'wn  because 
He  is  good,  because  his  will  is  a  beneficent  will  ;  or,  to 
put  the  same  thought  in  another  form,  God's  purpose  in 
the  inequalities  which  perplex  our  minds  and  fret  our 
hearts  is  a  good,  a  beneficent,  purpose.  We  do  not 
understand  them  ;  we  cannot  account  for  or  justify 
them  ;  wc  do  not  see  hoiv  they  work  for  our  good  even 
when  we  arc  told  that  they  are  for  our  good  ;  we  may 
not  solve  the  mystery  of  his  Providence  until  we  die, 
until  long  after  we  have  passed  through  death  into  life 


THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE 


eternal :  but  Christ  asks  us  to  believe  that  they  all  pro- 
ceed from  the  goodness  of  God,  that  our  good  is  the  end 
for  which  they  are  designed  and  to  which  they  contri- 
bute. He  asks  us  to  believe  that  He  knows  what  we 
do  not  know,  sees  what  we  cannot  see  ;  and  that  He 
sees  and  knows  how  large  and  generous  are  the  ends 
which  his  Father  has  in  view  for  us,  how  happy  is  the 
close  to  which  our  course  is  conducting  us. 

Now  I  should  not  venture  to  find  all  this  in  the  mere 
implication  of  my  text,  nor  could  I  expect  you  to 
believe  that  it  means  all  this,  if  the  implication  were 
not  confirmed  by  the  whole  body,  yes,  and  by  the  whole 
spirit,  of  our  Lord's  teaching.  But,  as  you  know,  both 
the  Old  Testament  and  the  New  give  us  this  great 
assurance,  this  great  and  sustaining  hope.  They  both 
abound  in  Apocalyptic  passages  which  affirm  and  de- 
scribe the  coming  of  a  time  in  which  every  man  will 
receive  according  to  his  deeds,  will  be  paid  his  full 
wages  and  something  over  ;  in  which  every  wrong  will 
be  redressed,  every  loss  compensated,  nay,  turned  to 
gain  :  passages  which  prolong  the  lines  of  human  life 
beyond  the  grave,  and  shew  them  to  us  as  moving  on 
for  ever  in  the  same  general  direction  indeed,  and  yet  as 
ever  moving  upward  into  light.  And,  therefore,  I  have 
every  right  to  ask  you  to  take  to  your  hearts  the  full 
comfort  of  the  fact  that,  even  when  the  mind  of  Christ 
was  called  to  confront  the  inequalities  by  which  we  are 


A  WARRANT  OF  IMMORTALITY.  219 


troubled  and  perplexed,  so  far  from  sharing  our  trouble 
and  perplexity,  He  could  still  assure  us,  "  God  is  good. 
God's  will  is  a  good  will.  lie  means  your  good.  He  is 
not  unjust  or  austere.  It  is  his  very  bounty  which 
makes  you  think  Him  unfair,  unequal  in  his  ways.  It  is 
because  He  is  training  you  for  a  larger  higher  life  than 
the  present,  while  you  insist  on  judging  Him  as  if  the 
present  life  were  all,  that  you  mistrust  and  misjudge 
Him.  He  will  yet  give  you  all  you  deserve,  and  more. 
Nay,  if  your  will  be  a  good  will.  He  will  even  give  you 
all  you  desire,  and  more." 

Faith,  then,  solves  the  problem  which  Reason  pro- 
pounds, and  for  which  it  has  no  solution  whether  it 
admit,  or  whether  it  deny,  the  existence  and  rule  of 
God.  But  even  faith  does  not  demonstrate  the  problem. 
It  does  not  work  out  the  sum,  and  put  all  the  details  of 
the  answer  into  our  hands,  so  that  we  may  go  over  it  as 
often  as  we  please,  and  verify  it  from  point  to  point.  It 
does  not  sell  the  Key  with  the  Arithmetic.  But  it  does 
give  us  the  final  answer,  the  true  answer,  when  it 
assures  that  God  is,  and  that  God  is  good ;  and  that  it 
is  only  because  his  goodness  is  so  great,  and  because  we 
cannot  as  yet  measure  it  on  its  true  scale,  that  we  fail  to 
see  what,  and  how  good,  his  purpose  for  us  is.  For  the 
measures  of  time  do  not  apply  to  eternity  ;  nor  can  we 
work  out  the  end  and  meaning  of  an  immortal  life  in  the 
terms  of  our  mortality.     If  there  be  in  man  both  a  de- 


THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE 


veloped  animal  and  an  undeveloped  angel,  since  it  is 
very  certain  that  he  cannot  comprehend  even  the  animal 
which  he  has  outgrown,  very  certain  that  he  can  do  no 
more  than  frame  the  faintest  guess  of  what  the  life  of 
the  beasts  is  to  them,  what  its  meaning  is,  and  what  its 
end  ;  how  much  less  can  he  hope  to  form  any  adequate 
conception  of  what  his  own  life  will  be  like,  or  to  what 
lofty  end  it  will  soar,  when  he  becomes  as  the  angels 
who  are  in  heaven  ?  We  cannot  jump  off  our  own 
shadow,  the  hindering  shadow  of  our  mortality,  and  rise 
into  the  life  to  be  ;  and  yet  we  cannot  understand  the 
meaning  and  end  of  this  mortal  life  save  as  we  under- 
stand its  sequel  in  the  life  to  come.  Reason  is  power- 
less to  help  us.  If  we  are  to  have  any  solution  of  the 
mystery,  it  can  only  be  revealed  by  faith. 

It  lias  been  revealed  to  faith.  And  if  now  that  we 
have  received  Christ's  revelation  of  the  immortality  of 
man  and  of  the  boundless  love  and  mercy  of  God  ;  if, 
while  believing  that  He  knew  both  God  and  man  as  we 
shall  never  know  them,  that  He  saw  our  life,  and  saw  it 
whole,  from  its  commencement  to  its  close,  we  still 
insist  on  judging  our  life  and  God's  dealings  with  our 
life  as  if  the  grave  ivcre  its  goal,  we  are  like  one  who 
should  attempt  to  measure  the  vast  astronomical  spaces 
with  a  carpenter's  foot-rule,  or  to  calculate  the  motions 
of  the  stars,  by  help  of  the  multiplication-table,  on  a 
pcnn}-  slate  ;  we  are  like  one  who  should  judge  a  tale 


A  WARRANT  OF  IMMORTALITY. 


by  its  opening  chapter,  or  a  drama  by  its  first  act  or 
scene,  and  refuse  to  wait  for  the  catastrophe  which  is  to 
explain  and  vindicate  it  all. 

If  we  are  wise,  we  shall  not  thus  judge,  and  misjudge, 
the  solemn  drama  of  human  life.  Because  "  we  spend 
our  years  as  a  tale  that  is  told,"  we  shall  wait  for  the 
end  which  crowns  the  work  before  we  criticize  or  censure 
the  work.  Or  if  that  end  has  been  afore  revealed  to  us, 
wc  shall  refuse  to  read  it  by  our  own  unassisted  vision  ; 
we  shall  read  and  judge  it  in  the  light  of  the  revelation 
vouchsafed  us. 

Nay,  more :  if  we  are  wise,  we  shall  find  in  the  very 
inequalities  of  life  a  warrant  of  immortality.  We  shall 
take  all  the  wrongs,  losses,  and  sorrows  of  time,  with  all 
the  perplexity  and  pain  they  breed  within  us,  not  as 
proofs  that  God  is  unjust  or  unkind,  but,  rather,  as 
proofs  that  our  life  has  been  laid  out  on  a  nobler  scale 
and  mounts  to  a  loftier  end  than  we  had  imagined  ;  as 
proofs  that  we  do  not  die  when  we  die,  but  pass  into  a 
world  for  which  the  discipline  of  this  life  is  intended  to 
prepare  us,  a  world  in  which  the  training  commenced 
here  will  be  continued,  and  carried  to  a  close  so  large 
and  lofty  tljat  even  faith  cannot  fully  grasp  it,  so 
glorious  as  to  transcend  all  the  fond  prophecies  of 
hope. 

To  every  troubled  and  heavy-laden  soul,  then,  aching 
and  perplexed  under  the  wrongs  of  life,  I  bring  the  word 


THE  INEQUALITIES  OF  LIFE, 


of  Christ :  "  God  is  good,  and  means  your  good.  The 
very  incquaHties  of  this  present  time,  which  you  so  much 
resent,  prove  that  He  is  training  you,  not  for  this  Hfe 
alone,  but  for  immortality.  Let  not  your  eyes  be  clouded 
with  dark  and  evil  thoughts  of  Him  because  his  good- 
ness transcends  the  measures  of  a  mortal  mind.  You 
have  the  promise  of  his  mercy  already.  Only  wait  and 
trust,  and  you  shall  have  the  proof  of  his  mercy  ere 
long." 


XVI. 
JESUS    THE  JUST. 

"And  Jesus  who  is  called  Justus." — COLOSSIANS  iv.  1 1. 

If  these  words  stood  alone,  or  if  they  occurred  in 
another  context,  we  might  reasonably  infer  that  they 
indicated  no  one  less  than  our  Lord  Himself;  for  his 
name  was  "  Jesus,"  and  He  too  was  called  "  that  just 
one."  But,  standing  where  they  do,  we  know  that 
Jesus  the  Just  was  the  name,  not  of  the  Lord  of  the 
Church,  but  of  an  obscure  disciple  whose  name  occurs 
here,  indeed,  but  never  occurs  again.  And  even  here  we 
are  told  so  little  of  him,  except  his  name,  that  it  is  easy 
for  the  indolent  reader  to  assume  that  we  know  abso- 
lutely nothing  of  him,  and  are  quite  unable  to  conceive 
what  manner  of  man  he  was.  We  may  even  infer,  as 
some  have  inferred,  that  his  name  is  mentioned  here 
simply  to  illustrate  in  what  minute  points  the  Son  of 
Man  was  made  like  unto  his  brethren,  bearing  a  name, 
Jesus,  which  was  in  common  use  then,  though  reverence 
forbids  us  to  give  it  to  our  children  now,  and  winning 


224  JESUS  THE  JUST. 

an  epithet,  the  Just,  which  was  the  cherished  distinction 
of  many  a  pious  Pharisee.  And,  indeed,  if  it  will  help 
us  to  believe  that  we  may  share  his  spirit  and  live  his 
life,  it  will  be  well  for  us  to  bear  in  mind  that  Jesus, 
which  is  only  the  Greek  form  of  Joshua,  was  a  name  in 
common  use  among  the  Jews,  and  that  even  the  Lord's 
brother  was  known  as  "  James  the  Just^ 

1.  But  do  we  know  absolutely  nothing  of  the  Jesus 
who  is  mentioned  here  ?  We  know  at  least  that  he  was 
C2\\qA  Justus.  And  this  epithet  marks  him  out  as  one 
who  was  a  rigid  and  blameless  observer  of  the  Mosaic 
law  and  customs.  Ordinarily,  too,  the  epithet  implies 
an  exclusive  and  fanatical  devotion  to  the  Hebrew  law 
and  traditions,  a  devotion  which  closed  the  eyes  of  the 
mind  against  the  claims  of  any  system  of  thought  and 
morals  outside  the  circle  of  the  Law,  and  even  prejudiced 
it  against  any  new  development  of  the  Law,  however 
wise  and  opportune  it  might  be.  A  man  whom  the  Jews 
called  "just"  might  be  a  proselyte,  indeed  ;  but  in  that 
case  he  must  be  a  bigot, — one  of  those  converts,  or 
perverts,  who  outdo  in  sectarian  zeal  the  religious  com- 
munity to  which  they  attach  themselves— or  they  would 
never  have  accorded  him  that  distinction. 

2.  Jesus,  however,  was  not  a  proselyte,  for  St.  Paul 
expressly  tells  us  that  he  was  "of  the  circumcision  ;" 
and,  with  him,  this  phrase  implied  Jewish  blood  as  well 
as  Jewish  religion.     But  he  must  have  been  very  exact 


JESUS  THE  JUST.  225 

and  scrupulous  in  his  observance  of  his  reh'gious  duties, 
and  of  all  the  customs  and  traditions  by  which  the  rabbis 
"  fenced  "  and  defended  the  Mosaic  law  ;  in  short,  he 
must  have  been  eminently  pious  and  devout  after  the 
Jewish  manner  of  the  time,  before  he  could  have  been 
entitled  Jesus  the  Just.  And  we  know  what  that  manner 
was,  how  rigid,  how  narrow,  how  illiberal,  how  sectarian, 
how  scornful  of  all  that  the  Gentiles  took  for  wisdom, 
virtue,  piety,  and  how  bitterly  opposed  to  all  that  bore 
the  Christian  stamp. 

3.  And  yet  this  Jew,  though  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews, 
was  a  Christian.  He  was  a  member  and  minister  of  the 
Christian  Church  at  Rome.  He  was  a  friend  and  fellow- 
worker  with  St.  Paul,  the  most  catholic  of  the  Apostles  ; 
to  whom  the  Law  was  a  yoke  insupportable  by  any 
man  whom  Christ  had  made  free,  and  the  traditions 
"  fables  "  which  none  but  "  old  wives  "  could  any  longer 
believe,  and  who  counted  those  who  put  their  trust  in 
the  Law  among  the  adversaries  of  Christ  I  In  spite  of  all 
his  prejudices,  all  his  eminence  in  the  Hebrew  piety,  all 
his  contempt  for  "the  impostor  of  Nazareth,"  Jesus, 
though  he  was  called  Justus,  had  accepted  the  crucified 
Nazarene  as  the  true  Lord  and  Saviour  of  men.  He 
had  renounced  the  traditions  of  the  fathers.  He  had 
flung  off  the  yoke  of  the  Law.  He  had  counted  all  that 
was  most  precious  to  him  but  dross  that  he  might  win 
Christ  and  be  found  in  Him.  In  a  word, he  had  pre- 
16 


226  JESUS  THE  JUST. 

ferred  the  inward  and  spiritual  to  the  outward  and  cere- 
monial conception  of  Religion — an  immense  achievement, 
an  immense  advance,  for  a  man  of  his  blood  and  training 
and  habits.  With  all  the  forces  of  education,  custom, 
acquired  eminence  and  advantage,  pinning  him  down  to 
his  old  place,  he  had  broken  away  from  them  all  to 
embrace  a  new  faith,  to  enter  a  new  service,  to  find 
scope  for  the  new  devotion  which  had  been  kindled  in 
his  heart. 

4.  Of  the  time,  manner,  and  circumstances  of  this 
radical  change  we  are  told  nothing ;  for  this  distinguished 
Jew.  seems  to  have  filled  a  very  lowly  place  in  the 
Christian  Church.  But  for  St.  Paul's  passing  mention 
of  his  name  we  should  have  never  heard  of  him.  And 
though  St.  Paul's  pen  has  conferred  on  him  a  human 
immortality,  so  that  his  name  will  never  quite  pass  from 
the  lips  of  men,  no  one  could  have  then  suspected,  and 
least  of  all  Jesus  himself,  that  the  Apostle's  pen  possessed 
that  magic  power. 

But  that,  however  it  took  place,  the  change  zuas 
radical  and  complete,  is  beyond  a  doubt.  For  St.  Paul 
tells  us  that  in  all  Rome,  nay,  in  the  whole  Roman 
Church,  which  was  largely  composed  of  Jewish  converts, 
there  were  only  three  Jews,  of  whom  Jesus  the  Just  was 
one,  who  were  his  loyal  and  stedfast  fellow-labourers  in 
the  kingdom  and  service  of  Christ.  The  three  were 
Aristarchus,    a    fellow-prisoner,    Mark    the    cousin    of 


JESUS  THE  JUST.  227 

Barnabas,  and  Jesus  who  was  called  Justus.  So  that 
not  only  had  this  distin^aiishcd  Jew  renounced  the 
faith  of  his  fathers  for  the  broader  faith  of  Christ,  not 
only  had  he  stepped  down  from  his  pride  of  place  in 
the  Synagogue  to  become  a  humble  and  obscure  minister 
in  the  Church  ;  but,  once  in  the  Church,  he  had  thrown 
in  his  lot  with  its  broader  and  more  liberal  champions, 
although  here  too  he  had  to  swim  against  the  main 
current  of  belief  and  action.  The  Jewish  members  of 
the  Church  at  Rome  were  numerous  and  powerful. 
And,  as  a  body,  they  joined  the  Hebraist  faction  which 
set  itself  against  Paul  in  every  church,  turned  his 
ministry  into  a  perpetual  warfare,  and  filled  his  heart 
with  indignation  and  grief.  Only  three  were  found  to 
stand  by  the  Apostle  who  maintained  that  in  Christ 
there  was  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  no  heavenly  favourites, 
no  advantage  to  be  derived  from  blood  ;  that  circumci- 
sion was  nothing  and  uncircumcision  nothing,  but  all 
became  one  new  man  in  Him,  with  an  equal  claim  on 
his  love,  and  an  equal  interest  in  the  common  salvation. 
Jesus,  who  was  called  Justus,  was  one  of  the  faithful 
three.  As  he  had  sided  with  Christ  against  the  Syna- 
gogue, so  now  he  sides  with  St.  Paul  against  the  Church. 
As  he  had  ventured  to  differ  from  his  fathers,  so  also  he 
takes  leave  to  differ  from  his  brethren.  And  the  re- 
markable, the  beautiful,  point  in  his  character  is  that  he 
always  shews  himself  strong  upon  the  weaker  side,  or  at 


JESUS  THE  JUST. 


least  the  unpopular  side ;  that  in  both  the  great  spiritual 
crises  of  his  life,  when  he  had  to  choose  betwixt  two,  he 
takes  the  more  generous,  catholic,  and  liberal  part.  A 
man  of  an  open  mind,  he  is  also  a  man  of  a  kindly 
magnanimous  spirit,  and  ranges  himself  on  what  must 
have  seemed  to  be  the  losing  cause.  He  does  not  suffer 
his  eminence  as  a  Pharisee  to  hold  him  back  from  be- 
coming a  Christian  ;  nor  does  he  suffer  his  personal 
interest  and  advantage  as  a  Jew  to  hold  him  back  from 
the  frankest  and  freest  communion  with  the  Gentiles. 
The  Jews  would  fain  have  confined  the  favour  of  God 
to  the  Synagogue.  The  Hebraists  would  fain  have  con- 
fined the  grace  of  Christ  to  the  Circumcision.  But  Jesus 
the  Just  is  content  to  incur  the  hatred  both  of  the  Jew 
and  the  Hebraist  that  he  may  be  true  to  the  claims  of 
Christian  charity.  In  his  love  for  the  Gentiles,  and  for 
the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  he  becomes  a  fellow-worker 
with  him,  and  for  them,  in  the  kingdom  of  God. 

5.  Jew  and  Pharisee  as  he  was,  then,  he  must  have 
been  a  man  of  a  singular  and  rare  humanity,  a  catholic, 
open-minded,  large-hearted  Christian,  as  bold  and  reso- 
lute as  he  was  loving  and  humane.  And  if  we  ask, 
"  What  was  the  origin  and  source  of  this  fine  'enthusiasm 
of  humanity '?"  the  answer  comes  clearly  enough  from  a 
phrase  which  may  sound  at  first  a  little  obscure.  He 
was,  we  are  told,  a  fellow-worker  with  St.  Paul,  not  in, 
but  "  unto  the  kingdom  of  God."     That  is  to  say,  he  was 


JESUS  THE  JUST.  229 


animated,  possessed,  dominated,  by  a  great  idea  which 
he  had  learned  from  Christ.  For  had  not  that  other 
and  better  Jesus  constantly  spoken  of  "  the  kingdom  of 
God,"  or  "  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  which  lie  had  come 
to  set  up  on  the  earth  ?  a  kingdom  wide  as  the  world, 
open  not  to  one  race  alone,  but  to  every  race ;  a  kingdom 
into  which  all  men  were  to  be  drawn  ;  a  kingdom  of 
which  God  Himself  was  to  be  Lord,  and  to  prove  Him- 
self the  Lord  by  writing  the  laws  of  heaven  on  the  minds 
and  hearts  of  all  who  entered  it  ? 

This  was  the  great  revelation  which  Jesus  Christ  came 
to  make,  the  great  idea  which  He  lived  and  died  to 
declare,  illustrate,  and  enforce.  And  Jesus  the  Just  had 
caught  and  embraced  this  idea.  He  was  possessed  by 
it.  To  labour  unto,  towards,  this  kingdom  of  God,  to 
help  to  bring  it  about,  to  establish  it  in  this  heart  and 
that,  and  so  to  prepare  for  its  coming  in  all  hearts, — this 
was  the  aim  he  had  set  before  him  ;  this  the  task  to 
which  he  devoted  himself,  and  for  the  sake  of  which  he 
was  content  to  sacrifice  his  standing  as  a  Jew,  his  emi- 
nence as  a  Pharisee,  and  to  incur  the  hatred  and  breast 
the  opposition  of  the  very  Church,  if  the  Church  should 
prove  so  untrue  to  her  Master  as  to  set  herself  against 
it.  A  character  so  remarkable,  a  devotion  so  absolute, 
a  courage  so  fearless  as  that  of  Justus  can  only  be 
explained  by  the  presence  and  inspiration  of  some 
great  motive.     And  t/iis  was  the  motive  which  animated 


230  JESUS  THE  JUST. 


and  supported  him  in  the  toils  and  sacrifices  which  he 
shared  with  the  Apostle  Paul,  this  fair  and  noble  dream 
of  a  divine  kingdom  in  which  all  the  races  of  our  divided 
earth  should  become  one,  one  in  the  love  and  service 
of  the  one  only  God,  and  all  that  was  earthly  in  them 
should  become  "  pure  heavenly  "  : — a  dream  yet  to  be 
fulfilled  indeed,  but  which  must  be  fulfilled  if  there  is 
any  truth  in  God  or  any  hope  for  man. 

And  was  not  this  a  sufficient  motive,  a  motive  ade- 
quate to  produce  the  radical  and  noble  change  which 
transformed  Jesus  the  just  Jew  into  the  friend  and 
fellow-worker  of  the  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles,  so  that  he 
did  not  count  life  itself — and  much  less  any  personal 
advantage  or  privilege — dear  unto  him  if  only  he  might 
help  to  build  up  the  kingdom  of  God  among  men,  and 
help  to  make  it  universal  ?  li  we  were  animated  by  this 
motive,  haunted  and  possessed  by  this  ideal,  should  we 
not  soon  outgrow  all  our  bigotries,  and  break  away  from 
all  our  sectarian  limitations,  think  less  of  our  own  ad- 
vantages, and  even  of  our  own  salvation,  and  more  of 
the  welfare  and  salvation  of  the  world  ?  Would  the 
safety  of  the  elect  content  us,  or  even  our  own  safety  ? 
Should  we  settle  down  to  an  easy  enjoyment  of  "the 
comforts  of  Religion"  while  the  world  around  us  was 
perishing  for  lack  of  a  knowledge  we  could  impart? 
Should  we  be  zealous  to  maintain  our  sectarian  feuds, 
forgetting  that  the  world  can  only  be  drawn  to  God  as 


JESUS  THE  JUST.  231 

it  sees  that  we  are  all  one,  really  one,  new  man  in  Christ 
Jesus  ?  Should  we  not  rather  break  through  all  hinder- 
ing and  separating  bonds,  that  we  might  be  fellow- 
labourers  "  unto  the  kingdoro  of  God  "  ? 

Men  sometimes  talk  as  if  charity  were  fatal  to  zeal, 
although  in  every  other  connection,  love  is  admitted  to 
be  the  strongest  and  most  impelling  of  all  motives,  the 
mainspring  of  all  generous  and  heroic  action.  But  was 
Jesus  Justus  the  less,  or  the  more,  zealous  because  he 
preferred  the  universal  kingdom  of  God  to  the  pro\;incial 
Judaism  in  which  he  had  been  brought  up,  or  even  to 
the  sectarian  Hebraism  of  the  Church  which  he  had 
joined  ?  And  need  ive  be  the  less  zealous  for  the  salva- 
tion of  men  because  we  account  catholicity  the  true 
temper  of  the  Church,  and  charity  the  chief  of  the 
Christian  graces,  and  cherish  the  largest  hope  in  the 
mercy  of  God  ?  In  proportion  as  our  charity  is  deep 
and  sincere,  it  will  be  fervent,  and  will  constrain  us  to 
labours  and  sacrifices_for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the 
world  around  us.  Our  charity  is  only  that  of  the  lip, 
not  that  of  the  heart,  if  it  does  not  kindle  and  inflame 
our  zeal, 

A  fellow-worker  with  St.  Paul  was  called  to  no  light 
and  easy  task  :  and  though  we  may  be  content  to  fall 
short  of  Paul's  high  mark,  yet  who  would  willingly  be 
less,  or  do  less,  than  Jesus  who  was  called  Justus  .-* 

We  have  already  gained,  I    hope,  a  tolerably  clear 


232  JESUS  THE  JUST. 

and  adequate  conception  of  the  man.  We  have  seen 
that,  though  a  rigid  Jew  and  an  eminent  Pharisee, 
Justus  wilHngly  encountered  shame,  enmity,  contempt, 
from  the  Jews,  and  broke  away  from  all  the  habits  and 
interests  of  his  life,  to  embrace  the  gospel  and  serve  the 
church  of  Christ.  And  we  have  also  seen  that  in  order 
to  serve  Christ,  to  maintain  the  universality  of  his  king- 
dom and  prepare  the  way  for  its  spread,  he  also  broke 
away  from  his  brother  Hebraists,  and  was  one  of  the 
only  three  who  heartily  associated  himself  with  the  toils 
and  sacrifices  of  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles. 

But  there  are  still  two  points  to  be  touched  before  our 
study  of  him  will  be  complete  ;  and,  though  they  are 
both  of  minor  importance,  they  are  far  too  pleasant  and 
significant  to  be  passed  over  in  silence. 

6.  The  first  is  simply  an  illustration  of  the  liberality 
of  his  spirit.  In  common  with  Aristarchus  and  Mark, 
he  learns  that  St.  Paul  is  writing  a  letter  to  the  Gentile 
Church  at  Colossal  ;  and,  Jew  as  he  is,  he  cannot  be 
content  to  miss  an  opportunity  of  shewing  his  love  and 
goodwill  to  the  Gentile  Christians.  "  Salute  them  from 
me,"  he  says  to  Paul  ;  and  accordingly  Paul  writes, 
"Jesus  who  is  called  Justus  saluteth  you."  In  little 
things,  as  well  as  in  great,  the  man  proves  his  devotion 
to  the  kingdom  which  embraces  the  whole  world,  and 
recognizes  his  brotherhood  with  men  of  every  race. 

7.  The  second  is  simply  an  illustration  of  his  entire 


JESUS  THE  JUST.  233 

sympathy  with  St.  Paul.  He,  as  well  as  Mark  and 
Aristarchus,  has  been  "  a  comfort "  to  mc,  writes  the 
Apostle.  And  the  Greek  word  for  "  comfort  "  viay  have 
been,  as  several  of  our  scholars  have  assumed,  one  of 
those  medical  terms  which  St.  Paul  picked  up  from 
Luke  the  phj-sician  ;  thou<^h  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that 
we  need  to  trace  it  to  Luke's  lips.  The  Greek  word  is 
irapijyopia,  or,  as  we  call  it,  paregoric ;  a  word  which 
may  have  been  as  familiar  in  its  Greek  form  to  the 
Apostle  as  in  its  English  form  it  is  to  us.  But,  wherever 
he  got  it,  the  word  meant  something  more  definite  than 
"  comfort,"  and  perhaps  we  shall  best  render  his  thought 
if  we  understand  St.  Paul  to  say  that  Jesus  Justus  had 
been  a  cordial  to  him,  so  stimulating  and  soothing  had 
he  found  his  friendship.  There  is  something  tender, 
familiar,  affectionate  in  the  phrase.  It  implies  that  the 
Apostle  found  this  once  rigid  Jew,  and  now  resolute 
Christian,  jyv/z/rt/Z/iZ/V  ;  that  fellowship  with  him  braced 
and  calmed  his  mind,  touched  and  strengthened  his 
heart ;  that  he  liked  him,  and  liked  to  have  him  with 
him. 

As,  indeed,  may  very  well  have  been  the  case.  P^or 
the  two  men,  different  as  they  were,  and  though  the  one 
was  so  much  greater  than  the  other,  had  passed  through 
much  the  same  discipline  and  experience.  They  had 
both  begun  as  fanatical  Jews,  Hebrews  of  the  Hebrews, 
Pharisees  of  the  Pharisees,  breathing  out  threatenings 


234  JESUS  THE  JUST. 

and  slaughter  against  the  Church.  And  they  had  both 
moved  onward  to  the  same  position,  not  simply  in  that 
they  had  both  embraced  the  Jesus  whom  the  Jews 
rejected  as  the  Christ  of  God,  and  become  members  and 
ministers  in  the  Church  of  Christ  ;  but  also  in  that  they 
both  belonged  to  the  broader,  the  more  liberal  and  pro- 
gressive, section  of  the  Church.  They  both  pursued  the 
same  ideal — that  universal  kingdom  of  God  in  which  all 
the  kingdoms  of  this  world  were  to  merge  and  blend,  in 
which  all  the  races  of  men  were  to  be  created  anew  in 
Christ  Jesus.  There  was  much  to  bind  them  together, 
therefore  ;  they  shared  much  in  common  :  they  were  of 
one  temper  ;  they  were  animated  by  one  and  the  self- 
same spirit ;  they  were  labouring  together  for  a  common 
end. 

8.  Now  if  any  of  you  would  have  said  a  few  minutes 
ago  that  you  "  knew  nothing  "  of  Jesus  who  was  called 
Justus  ;  if,  when  I  gave  out  my  text,  you  assum'ed  that 
nothing  could  be  known  of  the  man,  permit  me  to  ask 
whether  you  have  not  now  reached  as  clear  a  conception 
of  his  character  as  you  have  of  that  of  most. of  your 
immediate  neighbours  ?  and  to  remind  you  that  I  have 
not  told  you  a  single  fact  about  him  which  you  might 
not  have  found  out  for  yourselves.  With  very  little 
pains  you  might  have  discovered  from  what  St.  Paul 
here  says  of  him,  that  he  had  onCe  been  a  rigid  and 
fanatical   Jew,  a   distinguished   and   bigoted   Pharisee  ; 


JESUS  THE  JUST.  235 

that.  In  the  teeth  of  all  his  habits,  prejudices,  interests, 
he  had  been  constrained  to  accept  Jesus  of  Nazareth  as 
the  Christ  of  God,  to  love,  serve,  and  worship  Him  as 
the  true  Saviour  of  men  ;  that,  though  he  had  naturally 
allied  himself  with  the  Hebraist  section  of  the  Church  at 
Rome,  no  sooner  did  he  come  under  the  influence  of  St. 
Paul  than  he  severed  himself  from  the  Christian,  as  he 
had  before  severed  himself  from  the  Jewish,  "  circumci- 
sion," once  more  sacrificing  many  of  his  strongest  con- 
victions and  attachments ;  that  it  was  his  faith  in  and 
his  craving  for  the  universal  kingdom  of  God,  his  hope 
and  strong  desire  that  all  men  should  be  saved  by  being 
brought  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  which  inspired  all 
his  toils,  all  his  sacrifices  ;  that  in  his  humanity,  his 
philanthropy,  his  genuine  love  for  "  men  his  brethren," 
he  would  not  willingly  miss  any  opportunity  of  "saluting" 
the  Gentile  converts  to  the  Christian  Faith,  and  shewing 
that  his  love  for  them  was  as  tender  and  true  as  if  they 
had  been  of  Jewish  blood  ;  and  that  b)-  cherishing  this 
love,  this  enthusiasm,  for  humanity  at  large,  the  rigid 
Jew,  the  bigoted  Pharisee,  became  of  so  gentle  and 
sympathetic  a  spirit  that  even  the  large-brained  and 
large-hearted  Paul  found  fellowship  with  him  a  comfort, 
a  cordial,  which  at  once  soothed  and  stimulated  him  in 
the  hour  when  nearly  all  men  forsook  him,  when,  in 
prison  and  in  bonds,  he  was  daily  expecting  a  cruel  and 
a  lonely  death. 


236  JESUS  THE  JUST, 

All  this  I  say  you  might  have  discovered  for  your- 
selves by  meditating  on  the  words  in  which  St.  Paul 
describes  him.  And  I  say  it,  not  in  rebuke,  but  for 
your  encouragement.  For  I  believe  there  is  hardly  one 
of  the  obscure  servants  of  Christ  mentioned  in  the  New 
Testament,  and  of  whom  you  know  the  names,  but  know 
little  more,  of  whom  you  may  not  know  much  more  if 
only  you  will  reflect  on  the  little  we  are  told  of  them  :  of 
whom  you  may  not  learn  at  least  so  much  as  will  render 
their  example  a  stimulus  and  a  comfort  to  you.  For  it 
is  these  humble  predecessors  of  ours  in  the  service  of 
Christ,  and  in  the  toils  and  sacrifices  which  that  service 
implies,  who  stand  nearest  to  us,  with  whom  we  are 
most  at  home,  and  in  whose  examples  we  may  often  find 
the  most  powerful  and  welcome  incitement  to  fidelity, 
to  diligence,  to  a  stedfast  continuance  in  well-doing. 
They  do  not,  or  they  need  not,  stand  very  high  above 
us.  What  they  did,  we  may  hope  to  do.  What  they 
bore,  we  may  hope  to  bear.  What  they  achieved,  we 
may  hope  to  achieve. 

Jesus  Justus  does  not  seem  to  have  been  a  person  of 
any  special  mark  in  the  Church.  He  is  never  mentioned 
again.  We  should  never  have  so  much  as  heard  his 
name  if  he  had  not  bethought  him  to  ask  St,  Paul  to 
send  his  love  to  the  Christians  at  Colossae.  And  yet 
how  honourable  a  character  he  had  built  up  !  how  many 
and  great  were  the  sacrifices  he  had  made — sacrifices, 


JESUS  THE  JUST.  237 

moreover,  of  the  very  kind  which  many  of  us  are  called 
to  make  to-day !  what  an  open  mind  he  kept  !  what  a 
generous  and  loving  heart !  what  a  catholic  and  sympa- 
thetic spirit!  How  much  he  did  to  serve  the  Church, 
and  the  Lord  of  the  Church,  not  only  by  his  own  labours, 
but  also  by  being  a  cordial  to  the  harassed  spirit  of  one 
far  greater  than  himself! 

Most  of  all,  perhaps,  he  impresses  us  by  the  somewhat 
rare  combination  of  strength  with  sweetness,  of  charity 
with  devotion,  of  the  widest  philanthropy  and  the  largest 
hopes  for  men  with  a  zeal  which  halted  before  no  toil, 
no  sacrifice.  Thoughtfulness  and  activity  do  not  always 
go  together  with  equal  steps.  And  those  who  cherish 
large  hopes  for  mankind  are  often  at  least  suspected  of 
indifference,  of  rendering  only  a  half-hearted  support  to 
efforts  for  the  extension  of  the  Divine  kingdom.  No 
charge  should  be  more  untrue.  No  charge  can  be  more 
untrue  when  those  who  think  think  deeply,  or  when 
those  whose  faith  in  the  mercy  of  God  is  large  hold  that 
faith  in  sincerity  and  in  truth.  For  them  to  be  indifferent 
is  as  though  those  who  believe  health  to  be  the  normal 
and  ultimate  state  of  all  men  should  be  careless  of  their 
present  sanitary  conditions,  or  refuse  to  support  a  hos- 
pital for  the  crippled  and  diseased.  Jesus  the  Just  was 
not  indifferent  to  the  progress  and  extension  of  the 
Church  of  Christ  whether  at  Rome  or  in  distant  Colossre, 
large  as  was  his  faith  in  the  universal  kingdom  of  God. 


238  JESUS  THE  JUST. 

He  was  a  fellow-labourer  with  the  most  laborious  of  the 
Apostles  "  unto  "  that  kingdom.  And  in  proportion  as 
we  share  his  spirit  and  cherish  his  hope,  we  shall  be 
fellow-workers  with  him.  The  love  of  Christ  will  con- 
strain us.  The  love  of  man  will  constrain  us.  The  great 
hope  we  cherish  will  be  our  inspiration  and  support  under 
all  the  disappointments  and  weariness  of  our  work. 
Because  we  expect  great  things  from  God,  we  shall 
attempt  great  things  for  Him,  and  for  the  coming  of  his 
kingdom  in  all  the  earth. 


XVII. 
DEMETRIUS. 

"  Demetrius  hath  the  witness  of  all  men,  and  of  the  truth  itself  ; 
yea,  and  we  also  bear  witness." — iii.  John  12. 

The  third  Epistle  of  St.  John,  as  it  is  the  latest,  so  also 
it  is  one  of  the  shortest  of  the  Christian  Scriptures,  so 
short  that  it  is  rather  a  brief  private  note  than  a  formal 
public  letter.  But,  small  as  is  the  canvass,  it  holds  a 
large  and  stirring  picture.  In  a  few  sentences  it  tells  us 
more,  gives  us  a  more  authentic  description,  of  what 
Church  life  was  like  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  first 
century,  and  probably  in  the  last  decade  of  that  century, 
than  we  might  learn  from  many  a  long  and  formal 
treatise.  If  I  am  to  tell  you  the  story  which  it  com- 
presses into  so  small  a  compass — and  I  viiist  tell  it — I 
must  not  only  use  a  great  many  more  words  than  it 
contains,  I  must  also  give  you  a  preface  to  it  which  will 
be  at  least  as  long  as  the  Epistle  itself. 

We  are  not  told  to  what  Church  this  note,  or  letter, 
was  addressed,  though  it  was  evidently  a  Church  of  some 
size  and  importance.     But  all  the  indications  of  time  and 


240  DEMETRIUS. 


place  which  have  come  down  to  us  imply  that  it  was 
written  .  from  Ephesus,  toward  the  close  of  St.  John's 
long  life  and  ministry,  and  addressed  to  one  of  the 
neighbouring  Churches  of  Asia  Minor,  which  St.  Paul 
had  founded  some  thirty  or  forty  years  before.  There 
were  many  such  churches  in  the  wealthy  and  prosperous 
cities  of  this  great  province ;  and  in  all  of  them,  no 
doubt,  the  tradition  of  St.  Paul's  teaching  and  power 
was  carefully  preserved  ;  while  in  some,  or  in  some  mem- 
bers of  many  of  them,  there  may  have  been  a  certain  in- 
disposition to  submit  to  the  authority  of  another  Apostle, 
even  to  that  of  the  venerable  and  beloved  John.  Dio- 
trophes  was  probably  only  one  of  a  class  who  said  "  I 
am  o^  Pmil"  in  a  tone  which  made  the  words  mean,  "  I 
am  not  of  John,"  and  turned  the  authority  of  the  one 
Apostle  against  the  other.  Obviously  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  independence  in  the  Churches  when  one  Church 
in  a  province  could  refuse  communion  with  men  who 
were  commended  to  them  by  another  Church,  could 
excommunicate  those  who  did  commune  with  them,  and 
an  unknown  Diotrophes  could  not  only  set  himself,  but 
persuade  the  majority  of  his  fellow-members  to  set 
themselves,  against  the  request  and  command  of  one  of 
the  Apostles  who  had  seen  the  Lord,  and  he  the  disciple 
whom  Jesus  had  loved  above  the  rest. 

V>\\\.  if  the  Churches  had  grown  in  independence,  they 
had    not   declined    in    missionary  zeal.     The   Churches 


DEMETRIUS.  241 


under  the  charge  of  St.  John  were  sending  out  evan- 
gelists, such  as  Demetrius,  to  the  Gentiles,  and  so 
carrying  on  the  work  of  St.  Paul,  nay,  carrying  it  on 
in  his  very  spirit  ;  for  just  as  St.  Paul  refused  to  "  live 
by  "  the  gospel  he  preached,  or  to  be  chargeable  to  any, 
lest  his  motive  should  be  miscontrued,  so  Demetrius  and 
his  fellows  "  went  forth,  taking  nothing  of  the  Gentiles  " 
(Verse  6). 

In  fine,  the  impression  which  the  Epistle  leaves  on 
our  minds  is  that  the  members  of  the  primitive  and 
apostolic  Church  were  not,  as  they  have  sometimes  been 
drawn,  saints  who  lived  together  in  an  unbroken  charity 
and  peace,  "  too  good  for  human  nature's  daily  use,"  but 
men  and  women  of  like  passions  with  ourselves  ;  with 
much  that  was  good  in  them,  but  also  with  not  a  little 
that  came  of  evil  ;  capable  of  heroic  self-sacrifice,  but 
also  capable  of  sinking  into  selfish  ambitions  and  envies 
and  strifes,  of  falling,  in  short,  into  the  very  errors  and 
faults  of  which  we  find  some  lingering  traits  even  in  the 
Church  life  of  to-day,  when  we  ought  to  be  so  much  wiser 
and  better  than  they.  And  this  is  a  fact  which  we  should 
bear  in  mind,  not  as  rejoicing  to  bring  them  down  to 
our  own  poor  level,  but  that  we  may  not  attribute  to 
them  an  impossible  perfection,  and  draw  from  it  an 
inference  of  despair.  A  little  better  than  we  are  we 
may  hope,  and,  all  things  considered,  even  believe,  that 
they  were  ;  but  the  Church  life  even  of  the  Apostolic 
17 


242  DEMETRIUS. 


Church  was  not  an  ideal  life;  it  was  not  beyond,  but 
well  within,  our  reach,  if  only  we  are  true  to  the  truth 
and  grace  of  Christ. 

Here  is  a  bit  of  its  story  which  you  may  compare  with 
your  own  experience.     Demetrius  and  his  fellows  had 
been  called  to  the  evangelic  office,  and  had  devoted  them- 
selves to  preaching  the  gospel  to  the  Gentiles.     St.  John 
knew   them,  loved   them,    approved   them,  gave   them 
letters  of  commendation  to  the  Churches  of  Asia  Minor  ; 
and,  among  others,  to  the  Church  of  which  both  Gaius 
and  Diotrophes  were  members.     Diotrophes,  evidently  a 
man  of  some  mark  and  gifts,  declined  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  them — perhaps  because  Demetrius  did  not 
come    first   to  him,   or    did   not    make    much    of  and 
defer  to  him  ;  perhaps  because  he  preferred  St.  Paul's 
doctrinal  and  argumentative  method  of  teaching,  and  his 
demand  for  faith,  to  St.  John's  divine  and  deep  simplicity, 
and  his  eternal  insistence  on  charity,  or  love.      In  any 
case  he  did  not  like  Demetrius,  did  not  take  to  him  ;  and 
doubtless  he  soon  found  or  imagined  abundant  reasons 
for  his  dislike.     Having  formed,  and  uttered,  his  hasty 
opinion,  Diotrophes  was  not  the  man  to  draw  back  from 
it.     Nor  was  he  content  to  have  it  to  himself,  to  hold  it 
alone.    He  must  impose  it  on  the  Church.    When  others 
would  have  "  received  "  the  evangelists,  he  forbad  them. 
If  they  paid   no  heed  to  his  prohibition,  he  got  them 
"  cast  out "  of  the  Church  ;  the  motto  of  this  lover  of 


'DEAfETRIUS.  243 


prc-cmincncc  being,  apparently,  "  Better  to  reign  in  a 
small  church  than  to  serve  in  a  large  one." 

Undeterred  by  his  influence  and  threats,  the  hospitable 
Gaius  had  welcomed  the  repulsed  and  disheartened  Evan- 
gelists to  his  house,  and  furthered  them  in  their  good 
work.  Whether  he  also  was  excommunicated  by  Dio- 
trophes,  or  whether  he  was  too  wealthy  and  powerful  a 
man  to  be  attacked,  we  are  not  told.  But,  at  all  risks, 
he  discharged  his  duty,  having,  I  suppose,  an  affectionate 
reverence  for  St.  John  which  made  the  displeasure  of  a 
Diotrophes  sit  lightly  upon  him.  Demetrius  was  very 
grateful  to  him  ;  and,  when  he  returned  to  Ephesus, 
reported  the  fidelity  of  Gaius  both  to  the  Apostle,  and 
to  the  Church  of  which  John  was  pastor  or  bishop.  And 
now  the  Apostle  sends  back  Demetrius,  and  writes  to 
Gaius,  commending  and  encouraging  him,  and  promising 
him  a  speedy  visit,  in  the  course  of  which  he  will  depose 
Diotrophes  from  his  pride  of  place,  make  him  eat  his 
■ "  wicked  words,"  and  restore  those  whom  he  had  cast 
out. 

Besides  the  light  it  casts  on  the  conditions  of  the 
primitive  Church,  then,  this  brief  Letter  sets  before  \is 
three  men — Demetrius  the  evangelist,  Gaius  the  faithful 
servant  of  the  Church,  and  Diotrophes  who  assumed  to 
lord  it  over  God's  heritage — at  each  of  whom  I  will  ask 
you  to  look,  that  you  may  frame  some  definite  conception 
of  his  character,  and  learn  the  lessons  he  has  to  teach. 


244  DEMETRIUS. 


For  the  present  let  us  be  content  with  looking  at 
Demetrius,  taking  him  first  because  he  was  the  bone  of 
contention  between  Gaius  and  Diotrophes.  Of  him  we 
are  told  less  than  of  the  other  two,  but  still  enough,  I 
think,  to  lead  us  to  a  tolerably  adequate  conception  of 
him. 

All  three  of  these  men  were  in  some  sense"  ministers, 
i.e.,  servants,  of  the  Church  ;  but  in  the  Apostolic  Church 
the  Christian  ministry  took  many  forms.  Some  were 
prophets,  some  evangelists,  some  pastors  and  teachers 
(Ephesians  iv.  ii);  nay,  St.  Paul  seems  to  distinguish 
even  between  the  minister  who  taught  and  the  minister 
who  exhorted,  between  the  minister  who  ruled  and  the 
minister  who  bestowed  the  alms  of  the  Church  (Romans 
xii.  8).  And  we  have  recently  learned,  from  an  ancient 
document  (the  Didache)  that,  as  a  rule,  the  presbyter  or 
bishop,  what  we  call  "  the  pastor,"  of  a  Church  was  the 
ruling  and  representative  elder,  the  man  who  adminis- 
tered the  affairs  of  the  Church,  managed  its  business,  and 
spoke  for  it  to  other  churches  or  to  the  world  at  large  ; 
while  those  who  assumed  the  office  and  function  which 
we  now  think  of  as  ministerial  mainly  were  called 
teachers,  evangelists,  prophets.  The  bishop,  or  pastor, 
was  not  necessarily  a  man  who  could  preach  ;  the 
preacher,  whether  he  taught,  exhorted,  or  prophesied, 
did  not  necessarily  take  an  active  or  forward  part  in 
Church   business   or   discipline ;    no,   not   even  if,   like 


DEMETRIUS.  245 


St.    Paul,    he   was  teacher,   cvangch'st,    prophet,    all    in 
one. 

Gaius  and  Diotrophes,  probably,  belonged  to  the 
former,  the  ruling,  class  ;  while  Demetrius,  certainly, 
belonged  to  the  latter,  the  preaching,  class. 

For  Demetrius  was  an  evangelist ;  i.e.,  he  proclaimed 
the  evangel  of  love  and  mercy,  the  good  tidings  of  great 
joy,  which  came  by  Jesus  Christ :  nay,  after  a  time,  and 
before  we  meet  with  him,  he  seems  to  have  specialized 
himself  still  further,  and  to  have  become  a  travelling 
evangelist,  or  missionary.  As  a  missionary  even,  he 
seems  to  have  devoted  himself,  like  St.  Paul  before  him, 
specially  to  the  service  of  the  Gentiles  (Verse  7)  ;  though 
we  may  be  sure  that,  like  St.  Paul,  he  missed  no  oppor- 
tunity of  proving  to  the  Jews  out  of  their  own  Scriptures 
that  Jesus  was  the  Christ. 

In  attempting  to  define  any  man  of  that  age,  indeed, 
or  any  function,  we  must  before  all  things  be  on  our 
guard  against  drawing  our  outlines  with  too  rigid  or  too 
dark  a  pencil.  For,  then  at  least,  one  man  played  many 
parts  ;  and  he  who  was  a  teacher  might  melt  into  a 
missionary  ;  he  who  was  a  ruling  elder  might  pass  into 
a  preaching  elder  ;  while,  occasionally,  some  one  man,  a 
Paul  or  a  John,  gifted  above  his  fellows,  might  absorb 
into  himself  all  possible  functions,  and  be  ruler,  preacher, 
evangelist,  and  prophet,  as  well  as  an  Apostle, — ^just  as 
in  "  the  spacious  times  of  great  Elizabeth  "  one  and  the 


246  DEMETRIUS. 


self-same  man  might  be  scholar,  statesman,  admiral, 
general,  diplomatist,  and  even  his  own  gardener  or  archi- 
tect. The  sharp  lines  of  demarcation  between  classes, 
professions,  functions,  are  indeed  of  quite  recent  origin. 

Because  Demetrius  was  an  evangelist  and  a  missionary, 
I  suspect  he  was  also  a  prophet.  It  is  but  a  little  while 
since  we  studied  "  the  faithful  sayings  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment," sayings  which  we  saw  reason  to  think  authentic 
utterances  of  the  Christian  prophets.^  And  some  of  you 
may  remember  that,  as  a  rule,  these  sayings  embody  the 
facts  and  truths  which  are  the  very  substance  of  the 
Gospel ;  such  as,  for  instance,  that  "  Christ  Jesus  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners."  The  man  who  could 
utter  such  sentences  as  these,  who  could  compress  the 
whole  gospel  into  simple  and  portable  forms,  was  the 
very  man  for  an  evangelist  or  a  missionary.  And  no 
doubt  many  of  the  evangelists  were  also  prophets — 
Demetrius,  perhaps,  among  them. 

But  whatever  his  gifts,  and  whether  few  or  man)', 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  self-sacrificing  and  dis- 
interested spirit  in  which  he  used  them.  Simply  to  travel 
was  dangerous  in  those  days,  since  every  stranger  was 
then  held  to  be  an  enemy.  But  to  go  into  the  schools, 
market-places,  and  sanctuaries  of  strange  cities,  in  order 
to  teach  a  strange  religion,  was  very  like  courting  death. 
Among  the  sophists  and  philosophers  of  the  time,  indeed, 
'  See  Volume  III.,  Discourses  16-23. 


DEMETRIUS.  247 


with  cars  ever  on  the  itch  for  some  new  thing,  such  a  man 
as  Demetrius,  with  such  a  message  as  his,  might  meet 
with  nothing  worse  than  ridicule  and  contempt.  Hut  the 
ignorant  and  cruel  mob  of  those  ancient  Asian  cities 
[e.g..  Acts  xix.  23-41),  each  of  which  was  devoted  to  the 
service  of  its  own  deity,  was  prompt  enough  to  take  fire 
at  whatever  could  be  construed  as  an  insult  to  their 
special  shrine,  and  knew  no  better  sport  than  tearing  a 
setter  forth  of  strange  gods  limb  from  limb. 

It  tasked  courage,  therefore,  to  venture  among  them 
with  the  simple  evangel  of  Christ,  which  at  once  rebuked 
their  vices  and  dethroned  their  gods.  And  to  do  this, 
not  for  gain,  or  fame,  or  hire  ;  to  go  out  into  a  strange 
cruel  world,  not  knowing  where  to  look  for  daily  bread, 
casting  oneself  wholly  on  the  providence  of  God  and  the 
bounty  of  unknown  brethren,  was  to  make  this  hard 
perilous  task  still  harder  and  more  perilous.  But  Deme- 
trius did  not  shrink.  lie  would  "take  nothing  of  the 
Gentiles."  Like  St.  Paul,  he  knew  well  enough  that,  if 
he  seemed  to  make  anything  by  his  message,  the  sharp 
suspicious  traders  of  the  Asian  harbours  and  markets 
would  close  their  minds  and  hearts,  as  well  as  their 
purses,  against  him.  Hence  he  would  take  nothing  from 
them  ;  no,  not  even  when  it  was  offered  him,  lest  he 
should  be  placing  a  stone  of  stumbling  in  the  way  of  any 
whose  consciences  had  been  touched. 

If  we  ask  for  the  motive  which  inspired  this  noble  and 


248  DEMETRIUS. 


self-sacrificing  devotion  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of  men, 

we  are  told  that  it  was   simply  ''for  the  sake   of  the 

Name  "  that  Demetrius  devoted  himself  to  the  service  of 

the  Gentiles.     And  this  quaint  phrase  is  one  of  those 

affectionate  abbreviations  which  are  sure  to  creep  into 

use  among  the  members  of  a  community  who  are  bound 

together  by  a  common  feeling  and  purpose,  and  is  only 

one  of  several  such  abbreviations  to  be  found  in  the  New 

Testament.     Thus,  for  instance,  the  way,  or  method,  of 

Christian   thought  and  conduct  is  several  times  called 

simply  "  the  Way,"  or  "  this  Way  "  in  the  Acts  of  the 

Apostles  ;  and  we  read  of  Saul  hunting  out  "  any  who 

were  of  the  Way,"  that  he  might  bring  them  bound  to 

Jerusalem  (Chap.  ix.  2),  or  of  certain  Jews  at  Ephesus 

who  "  spoke  evil  of  this  Way  before  the  multitude,"  and 

the  "  no  small  stir  concerning  the  Way  "  which  arose  in 

the  same  city  among  the  Gentiles  (Chap.  xix.  9-23)  ; 

and  are  told  that  Felix,  the  governor  of  Caesarea,  had  a 

"more  exact  knowledge  of  the  Way"  than  the  Jews  who 

accused  Paul  before  his  bar  (Chap.  xxiv.  22),  while  Paul 

himself  admits  in  his  defence,  "  This  I  confess  unto  thee, 

that  after  the  Way,  which  they  call  a  Sect,  so  serve  I  the 

God  of  our  Fathers"  (Chap.  xxiv.  14).     Of  course  "the 

Way "  stood  for  "  the  way  of  Christ,"  or  the  Christian 

way  of  thought  and  life  :  but  when  the  term  was  common 

and  familiar  there  was  no  need  to  utter  it  at  full  length, 

since  every  one  was  talking  of  it  and  knew  what  was 


DEMETRIUS.  249 


meant.  And,  in  like  manner,  "the  Name"  was  the  name 
of  the  great  Saviour  of  men,  and  stood  for  all  that  was 
known  of  Him,  all  that  was  summed  up  in  Ilim.  At 
times  we  read  in  the  New  Testament  of  "  the  Name  of 
Jesus"  (Philippians  ii.  10),  or  "the  Name  of  Christ" 
(i  Peter  iv.  14;,  or  "the  Name  of  the  Lord"  (James  v.  14), 
or  "  the  Name  of  our  Lord  Jesus"  (2  Thessalonians  i.  12), 
or  "the  Name  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ"  (Romans  i.  5), 
and  are  told  that  men  preached  in  this  Name,  or  believed 
in  this  Name,  or  asked  in  this  Name,  or  were  gathered 
together  in  this  Name.  But  at  other  times,  when  every- 
body would  know  what  was  meant,  and  would  in- 
stinctively supply  the  omitted  words,  "  the  Name  "  was 
used  absolutely  and  by  itself,  as  it  is  here,  where  we  are 
told  that  "  for  the  sake  of  the  Name  "  Demetrius  and  his 
companions  went  forth  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth 
among  the  Gentiles.  What  moved  them  to  this  great 
and  perilous  work  was  the  love  they  bore  to  the  Name 
of  Jesus  Christ  their  Lord,  and  the  Lord  and  Saviour  of 
all  men.  P'or,  as  I  have  recently  reminded  you,'  this 
Name,  by  a  happy  Providence,  embodies  and  summarizes 
the  whole  work  and  gospel  of  "the  Man  from  heaven  ;" 
since  "Jesus"  means  "Saviour,"  and  "Christ"  means 
"  Anointed,"  and  "  Lord  "  means  "  God  :  "  so  that  what 
the  Name  really  covers  and  implies  is  that  Jesus  Christ 
was  the  Saviour  whom  God  had  promised  and  anointed, 
'  See  discourse  on  77te  Christian  Commandments^  p.  88. 


2  50  DEMETRIUS. 


and  that  God  was  in  Him,  reconciling  the  world  unto 
Himself.  This  was  the  truth  to  which  Demetrius  bore 
witness,  this  the  gospel  which  he  preached  ;  and  it  was 
because  his  whole  heart  was  penetrated  and  informed  by 
love  for  this  great  Saviour  and  Lord  that  he  went  forth 
into  a  strange  and  hostile  world  to  make  Him  known  to 
men  who  were  perishing  for  lack  of  knowledge — his 
enthusiasm  for  the  Man  Christ  Jesus  devoloping  into  an 
enthusiasm  of  humanity. 

An  evangelist,  possibly  a  prophet,  animated  by  a  most 
self-sacrificing  and  disinterested  spirit,  which  sprang  from 
an  ardent  love  for  Christ  the  Saviour  of  men,  Demetrius 
won  for  himself  a  threefold  testimony  :  (i)  He  won  "the 
witness  of  all"  says  St.  John  ;  i.e.,  the  witness  of  all  good 
men,  of  all  who  were  capable  of  appreciating  goodness. 
Even  those  who  rejected  his  message  had  nothing  to 
allege  against  the  man,  save  the  sublime  folly  of  a  perilous 
and  unprofitable  enthusiasm  ;  while  those  who  accepted 
it  from  him,  or  had  already  accepted  it  from  other  lips, 
could  not  but  admire  the  fineness  of  his  spirit  and  the 
fire  of  his  zeal. 

(2)  More  and  better  still,  he  won  "the  testimony  of 
tJie  tnitJi  itself."  For  he  who  daily  sets  his  life  upon  the 
die  that  he  may  be  true  to  his  convictions,  he  who,  moved 
by  the  grace  and  love  of  Christ,  seeks  not  his  own  things 
but  the  things  of  others  ;  he  who  devotes  himself  with 
burning  zeal  and  all-enduring  courage  to  the  service  of 


DEMETRIUS.  251 


truth  and  the  salvation  of  men, — to  him  the  truth  itself, 
which  has  made  him  what  he  is,  bears  witness.  He  does 
not  merely  "  prate  "  about  the  truth,  as  a  Diotrophcs 
may  ;  he  embodies  it  in  deeds  of  love  and  self-sacrifice 
of  which  he  would  have  been  incapable  but  for  the  truth 
which  animates  and  sustains  him.  Men  do  not  despise 
case  and  a  sure  provision  for  their  daily  wants,  they  do 
not  daily  affront  every  form  of  danger  and  loss,  for  truths, 
or  beliefs,  which  have  no  real,  no  vital,  hold  upon  them. 
"  They  who  do  such  things  as  these  declare  plainly,"  they 
"  make  it  manifest,"  that  they  are  the  servants  of  a  truth 
which  they  love  more  than  they  love  themselves.  It  is 
the  truth  itself  which  speaks  through  them,  and  bears 
witness  to  them. 

(3)  Last  of  all,  St.  John  adds  his  own  testimony  to 
that  of  the  previous  witnesses :  "  ive  also  bear  witness." 
And  any  man  who  has  devoted  himself  to  thp  service  and 
spread  of  a  truth  which  has  not  met  with  wide  or  general 
recognition  will  understand  the  special  charm  which  this 
testimony  would  exert  on  Demetrius.  P>om  sheer  love 
of  the  truth,  or  conviction,  which  God  has  given  him,  and 
a  strong  desire  that  his  fellow-men  should  share  the  light 
and  strength  and  comfort  it  Uas  brought  him,  a  man  may 
be  faithful  to  it,  and  go  on  proclaiming  it,  whatever  the 
risk  or  loss  his  fidelity  may  involve.  But  how  unspeak- 
able will  be  the  comfort,  how  will  it  nerve  his  courage 
and  sustain  his  devotion,  if  some  great  Master,  whom  he 


252  DEMETRIUS. 


loves  and  venerates  as  far  wiser  and  better  than  himself, 
far  nearer  to  the  Source  of  all  truth  and  grace,  openly 
backs  him  up  in  his  work,  and  says,  "  I  love  him  ;  I  trust 
him  ;  I  commend  him  to  you  :  it  is  the  truth  which  he 
is  teaching  and  by  which  he  lives  ;  receive  hiin  as  you 
would  receive  me."  Many  of  us,  I  dare  say,  have  heard 
such  an  encouraging  voice  as  this,  and  know  therefore 
what  a  peculiar  force  and  charm  it  would  carry  for  Deme- 
trius. And  if  we  have  not,  we  have  only  to  remember 
how  Carlyle  and  his  wife,  living  their  poor,  proud,  starved 
life  at  Craigenputtock,  sprang  at  the  commendation  of 
Goethe,  and  even  at  the  sympathy  of  Emerson,  in  order 
to  understand  what  the  generous  appreciation  of  St.  John 
must  have  been  to  this  unknown  Evangelist. 

On  the  whole,  then,  we  may  conceive  of  Demetrius  as 
an  evangelist,  a  travelling  evangelist  or  missionary,  who 
was  so  moved  by  his  love  for  Christ,  and  was  animated 
by  a  spirit  so  disinterested  and  brave,  by  a  zeal  so  ardent 
and  sustained  ;  who  was  so  faithful  to  the  evangel  he 
preached  in  the  daily  life  which  he  daily  risked  that  he 
might  be  true  to  it,  as  to  win  for  himself  the  testimony 
of  all  who  were  capable  of  appreciating  truth  and  good- 
ness, nay,  of  the  very  truth^tsclf,  and  of  the  Apostle  who 
had  more  of  the  mind  and  heart  of  Christ  than  any  other 
of  the  sons  of  men. 

A  very  noble  character,  on  which,  simply  by  describing 
it,  St.  John  has  pronounced  a  very  noble  eulogium.   And 


DEMETRIUS.  253 


if  the  ideal  it  presents  is  one  to  which  we  feel  that  we 
have  not  yet  attained,  or  even  one  which  we  think  beyond 
our  reach,  we  cannot  doubt  either  that,  so  far  as  it  goes, 
it  is  a  true  ideal  of  the  Christian  life,  or  that  we  ought  to 
and  may  so  far  reproduce  it  as  to  be  bringing  our  daily 
life  into  a  closer  correspondence  with  the  truths  we 
believe.  "Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us"  that  our 
lives  ought  to  be  greater  than  they  are,  and  should  move 
us  to  make  them  greater.  If  we  are  not  called  to  be,  if 
we  have  not  the  gifts  which  would  fit  us  for  the  work  of, 
evangelists  and  missionaries,  we  are  still  called  to  be  true 
to  our  convictions  ;  we  are  called  to  live  a  Christian,  i.e.^ 
a  quiet,  sober,  and  godly  life,  and  so  both  to  discharge 
the  duty  of  bearing  witness  to  the  truth,  and  to  enjoy 
the  happiness  of  having  the  truth  itself  bear  witness 
to  us. 

Let  me  also  remind  you  that  great  as  Demetrius  looks 
to  us — great  in  his  disinterestedness,  his  devotion,  his 
zeal — he  was  not  a  man  of  any  great  mark  in  the  primi- 
tive Church.  It  is  not  some  hero  of  distinction,  some 
honoured  and  beloved  man  of  spiritual  genius,  whom  I 
have  tried  to  place  before  you  ;  but  a  man  of  whom 
we  should  never  have  heard  but  for  the  prating  in- 
subordination of  Diotrophes,  whose  "  wicked  words " 
and  wicked  conduct  we  can  almost  forgive  since,  but  -for 
these,  we  should  have  known  nothing  of  the  hospitable 
Gaius  and  the  zealous  Demetrius.   There  must  have  been 


254  DEMETRIUS. 


many  such  as  Demetrius,  many  such  as  Gaius,  in  the 
Apostolic  Church,  if  also  many  such  as  Diotrophes. 
And  though,  with  Diotrophes  and  his  life  before  us,  we 
must  not  think  of  it  as  a  company  of  saints  who  had 
"squared  the  circle  of  perfection,"  we  may  and  must 
think  well  of  a  Church  in  which,  if  we  find  one  prating 
lover  of  pre-eminence,  we  also  find  a  host  so  generous, 
hospitable,  and  fearless  as  Gaius,  an  evangelist  as  brave 
and  devoted  as  Demetrius,  and,  in  St.  John,  the  very 
Apostle  of  love  and  grace. 


XVIIT. 
DIOTROPHES. 

"  I  wrote  somewhat  unto  the  cliurch  :  but  Diotrophcs,  who  loveth 
to  have  the  pre-eminence  among  them,  receiveth  us  not.  Therefore, 
if  I  come,  I  will  bring  to  remembrance  his  deeds  which  he  doeth, 
prating  against  us  with  wicked  words  ;  and  not  content  therewith, 
neither  doth  he  himself  receive  the  brethren,  and  them  that  would 
he  forbiddcth  and  casteth  out  of  the  church." — iii.  JOHN  9,  lo. 

Besidks  the  light  which  this  brief  Epistle  casts  on  the 
state  of  the  Christian  Church  toward  the  close  of  the  first 
century,  it  presents  us  with  "the  portraits  in  little"  of 
three  remarkable  men — Demetrius,  Diotrophes,  and 
Gaius.  We  have  already  endeavoured  to  frame  some 
conception  of  Demetrius,  and  found  him  an  evangelist, 
a  missionary,  who,  for  the  love  he  bore  to  Christ,  had 
devoted  himself  to  the  service  of  the  Gentiles,  with  all 
its  toils,  privations,  and  perils  ;  and  was  animated  by  a 
spirit  so  disinterested  and  brave,  b}'  a  zeal  so  ardent  and 
sustained,  that  he  won  for  himself  the  testimony  of  all 
who  were  capable  of  appreciating  truth  and  goodness, 
nay,  of  the  very  truth  itself,  and  of  the  Apostle  whom 
Jesus  loved.     We  have  now  before  us  a  much  less  wel- 


256  DIOTROPHES. 


come  theme.  We  are  to  study  a  man  of  a  very  different 
and  inferior  stamp — the  vain,  irritable,  and  loquacious 
Diotrophes,  whose  religion  seems  to  have  been  quite 
compatible  with  a  slippery  morality. 

What  exactly  it  was  at  which  Diotrophes  took  offence, 
whether  in  the  letter  of  St.  John  or  in  the  conduct  of 
Demetrius,  we  are  not  told  ;  but  it  is  not  difficult  to 
offend  a  man  who  has  an  undue  sense  of  his  own  im- 
portance, and  whose  self-love  may  be  set  on  fire  by  any 
match,  however  innocently  it  may  be  struck.  We  do 
not  know  at  all  precisely  what  was  the  cause  or  the  occa- 
sion of  offence,  but  St.  John  clearly  implies  that  it  was 
some  wound  to  his  love  of  pre-eminence,  his  determina- 
tion to  stand  first  and  to  exact  a  homage  he  did  not 
deserve.  Possibly  the  Apostle's  letter,  the  letter  in  which 
he  commended  Demetrius  and  his  fellows  to  the  confi- 
dence and  sympathy  of  the  Church,  had  not  been 
addressed  to  him,  or  had  not  been  carried  first  to  him. 
Possibly  Gaius  had  "  received  "  Demetrius  without  con- 
sulting Diotrophes,  or  even  after  he  had  declined  to 
receive  him.  He  may  have  long  cherished  a  grudge 
against  Gaius  as  a  rival  too  near  the  throne  ;  or  Deme- 
trius may  not  have  shewn  him  the  deference  which  he 
thought  due  to  a  person  of  his  importance. 

But,  whatever  the  prick  which  his  vanity  had  received, 
the  character  of  the  man  comes  out  in  his  wholly  dis- 
proportionate and  extravagant  resentment  of  the  offence. 


DIOTROPHES.  257 


In  his  resentment,  he  sets  himsclfagainst  men  farwiserand 
better  than  himself;  he  imperils  the  peace  of  the  Church  : 
he  diminishes  its  numbers  and  strength.  Nothing  less  than 
the  excommunication  of  all  who  had  dared  to  differ  from 
him,  all  who  had  ventured  to  receive  the  Evangelists 
whom  he  would  not  receive,  and  whom  he  had  forbidden 
them  to  receive,  would  satisfy  him.  Not  content  with 
"prating"  against  the  missionaries,  atjd  against  the 
Apostle  who  had  sent  them,  he  "  cast  out  "  of  the  Church 
those  who  had  welcomed  and  aided  them.  Tacitl\-  at 
least  they  had  questioned  his  claim  to  personal  or  official 
authority.  His  pre-eminence  was  in  danger.  And, 
losing  all  sense  of  proportion  in  his  fierce  resentment,  he 
treats  them  as  though  they  had  been  guilty  of  a  mortal 
sin  ;  his  wounded  vanity  landing  him,  as  it  often  docs 
land  men,  in  the  most  bitter  animosity  and  intolerance. 
Ikit  the  democratic  constitution  of  the  primitive 
Church  would  not  permit  one  man,  however  eminent 
or  pre-eminent,  however  high  he  stood  in  his  own 
conceit  or  in  the  esteem  of  his  neighbours,  to  excom- 
municate those  who  had  offended  him,  simply  because 
they  had  offended  him.  l^efore  that  extreme  sen- 
tence was  passed  upon  them,  he  must  have  won  over 
a  majority  of  his  and  their  fellow-members  to  his  side. 
And  as  he  could  not  well  plead  against  them  a  merely 
personal  offence,  as  the  Church  did  not  feel  the  wound 
which  inflamed  his  irritable  self-conceit,  he  must  have 
18 


258  DIOTROPHES. 


taken  a  bypath  to  his  end.     He  may  long  have  cherished 
a  factious  spirit  in  the  inferior  members  of  the  Church, 
the  less  wise  and  less  good,  by  opposing  whatever  Gaius 
and  his  friends  proposed,  and  finding  plausible  reasons 
for  opposing  them.     And,  indeed,  a  man  of  inferior  gifts 
and  of  a  spirit  less  informed  by  the  grace  of  Christ,  who 
tvill  stand  first,  will  put  himself  forward  and  attempt  to 
rule  a  free  Christian  congregation,  must  take  this  course. 
He  must  play  on  the  ignorance,  and  even  on  the  piety, 
of  those  who  follow  him,  must  affect  a  superior  wisdom, 
or  a  superior  orthodoxy,  or  a  superior  devotion  to  the 
claims  of  its  poorer  and  less  instructed  members  ;  must, 
in    short,   wield    the   common    weapons   of   that    loud- 
mouthed, irrepressible,  and  unsavoury  creature,  the  re- 
ligious demagogue.      He  will   not  let    facts  speak    for 
themselves,  but  sets  himself  with  his  glib  tongue  to  lick 
them   out   of  their   natural    shape.      He   cannot  suffer 
learning,  wisdom,  godliness,  experience,  to  exert  their 
natural  and   beneficent  influence,  but  must  at  all  risks 
counterwork  that  influence,  and  suggest  plausible  reasons 
for  not  yielding  to  it.     How  else  can  he  win,  and  main- 
tain, a  pre-eminence  he  docs  not  deserve,  which,  in  his 
calmer  moments,  he  may  even  know  that  he  does  not 
deserve  ?     Tax  him,  press  him  close,  and  he  will  some- 
times admit  that  he  is  not  so  wise,  or  that  he  "has  not 
had  the  advantages,"  that  he  has  not  done  so  much  for 
the  wellbeing  of  the  Church,  or  made  so  many  sacrifices 


DIOTROPHES,  259 


in  its  service,  as  this  man,  or  that ;  but,  nevertheless,  it 
somehow  happens  that  he  is  always  in  the  right,  and  they 
are  always  in  the  wrong  ! 

There  is  nothing  in  the  Epistle  to  suggest  that  Dio- 
trophes  held  unsound  doctrinal  views,  or  that  he  fell  into 
what  arc  called  gross  and  open  sins.  Had  he  been  un- 
orthodox, indeed,  or  flagrantly  immoral,  he  would  never 
have  gained  that  eminence  in  the  Church  which  he  in- 
sisted on  converting  into  pre-eminence.  All  that  he  is 
blamed  for  is  the  conceit  and  self-assurance  which  ren- 
dered him  impatient  of  rivalry  or  resistance,  and  set  him 
on  seeking  power  rather  than  usefulness.  To  stand 
first,  not  to  do  most,  was  his  supreme  aim  and  desire  ; 
and  as  that  is  a  false  aim,  the  pursuit  of  which  com- 
monly leads  men  into  evil  courses  very  destructive  to  the 
peace  and  welfare  of  the  Church,  the  Apostle's  censure 
needs  no  defence.  For  the  men  who  take  the  uppermost 
seats  are  generally  men  who  should  sit  lower,  and  who 
are,  sooner  or  later,  compelled  to  take  a  lower  place  by 
the  discipline  of  a  kindly  Providence.  Any  man  who 
ivill  have  his  own  way  is  only  too  likely  to  come  to  a 
bad  end.  Any  man  who  insists  on  the  Church  taking 
his  way  is  only  too  certain  to  prove  a  blind  guide,  who 
will  lead  those  who  follow  him  into  a  ditch,  and  perhaps 
leave  them  in  the  ditch  when  he  himself  scrambles  out 
of  it. 

But  you  may  be  asking  :  "  Hoiv  did  Diotrophes  indyce 


:?6o  DIOTROPHES. 


his  fellow- members  to  follow  his  lead,  since  they  must, 
most  of  them  at  least,  have  been  good  men  who  were  not 
likely  to  excommunicate  their  fellows  either  for  an  excess 
of  charity,  or  for  wounding  his  self-conceit  ?  " 

And  the  answer  to  that  question  is  suggested  by  St. 
John's  words  :  "  He  receiveth  not  us ;''  "prating  against 
tis  with  wicked  (or  malicious)  words."  Yet  Diotrophes 
could  hardly  have  openly  denied  the  authority  of  an 
Apostle  so  revered  and  beloved  as  St.  John.  No :  but 
he  may  have  questioned  it  indirectly.  He  may  have 
dilated  on  the  independence  of  the  church,  of  every 
separate  community  of  believers,  on  its  competence  and 
right  to  manage  its  own  affairs,  to  appoint  its  own  agents, 
to  decide  on  its  own  course  of  action,  and  have  asked 
whether  they  would  suffer,  whether  it  would  be  right  to 
suffer,  any  outsider,  however  honoured  and  beloved  he 
might  be,  to  govern  and  control  them.  He  may  have 
pitted  the  venerated  founder  of  the  Asian  Churches, 
"  that  blessed  martyr,"  Paul,  against  John,  who  had  only 
come  among  them  when  Paul  had  finished  his  course, 
and  who  had  not  sealed  his  testimony  with  his  blood. 
He  may  have  contrasted  the  teaching  of  St.  Paul,  which 
dwelt  so  habitually  amid  the  mysteries  and  doctrines  of 
the  Faith,  with  the  teaching  of  St.  John,  which  dealt 
mainly  with  the  sentiments  it  should  inspire,  the  spirit 
of  love  and  grace  it  should  infuse.  He  may  even  have 
persuaded  himself,  as  well  as  others,  that  John  had  taken 


DIOTROPHES.  261 


a  new  departure  and  was  ^M'vin^r  a  new  tone  to  Christian 
thought  and  life,  and  that  the  Church  was  in  no  small 
danger  of  being  led  away  from  its  old  standards,  and 
thinking  too  much  of  the  mercy  and  too  little  of  the 
severity  of  God.  He  may  have  conceived,  or  have  taught 
others  to  conceive,  of  the  living  Apostle,  with  his  eternal 
cry,  *'  Little  children,  love  one  another,"  as  a  fond  foolish 
old  man  whose  best  days  were  past,  who  was  giving  a  too 
sentimental  tone  to  Religion,  and  making  it  milk  for 
babes  instead  of  meat  for  strong  men.  If  he  could  not 
say  bluntly,  "I  mean  to  stand  first  in  this  Church,  let  who 
will  oppose  me,"  or,  "  I  hate  Gains  and  his  pretensions  to 
advise  and  rule,"  or,  "  I  dislike  Demetrius,  and  resent  his 
lack  of  deference  for  me,"  he  could  at  least  appeal  to  the 
memory  and  teaching  of  their  venerated  Founder,  and 
avow  his  preference  of  St.  Paul's  gospel  over  that  of  St. 
John. 

And  when  once  he  had  taken  that  line,  it  would  only 
be  too  easy,  as  the  letter  of  the  Apostle  and  the  mission 
of  Demetrius  were  discussed,  and  there  seemed  some 
chance  of  his  being  defeated,  for  Diotrophes  to  slip  into 
wild  and  angry  words,  to  prate  maliciously  against  Gaius 
and  his  followers,  against  Demetrius  and  his  companions, 
against  the  holy  Apostle  himself,  and  to  accuse  them  of 
faults  and  errors  which,  in  his  calmer  moments,  he  would 
not  have  alleged  against  them. 

For  we  must  now  remember   that  we  are  told  two 


262  DIOTROPHES. 


things  about  Diotrophes,  We  are  told  not  only  that  he 
loved  to  have  the  pre-eminence,  but  also  that  he  was 
cursed  with  a  voluble  tongue,  that  he  would  "  still  be 
speaking  : "  for  how  often  does  a  fluent  tongue  lead  a  man 
whither,  in  his  reasonable  moods,  he  would  not  go,  and 
betray  him  into  positions  which  he  would  not  willingly 
have  assumed  ?  Mr.  Talkative,  as  Bunyan  calls  him,  may 
do,  and  often  does  do,  quite  as  much  harm  as  Mr.  Illwill. 
A  vain  voluble  man  too  commonly  forgets  to  ask  himself 
whether  he  has  anything  to  say  worth  saying,  or  even 
whether  he  can  trust  himself  to  say  it  discreetly  and  well. 
It  is  enough  for  him  to  speak,  to  shew  off,  to  force  him- 
self even  on  a  reluctant  audience,  so  that  he  may  flatter 
his  self-importance  and  gratify  his  itch  for  speaking.  He 
docs  not  consider  whether  he  can  bear  to  listen  with 
patience  and  courtesy  to  the  arguments  on  the  other 
side,  and  allow  them  their  due  weight.  It  is  his  own  way 
he  wants,  not  the  best  way,  not  the  way  which  will  be 
most  beneficial  to  others  ;  and  if  he  cannot  get  it  by  fair 
means,  he  will  often  stoop  to  foul  or  dubious  means, 
stirring  up  division  and  discontent,  prating  with  malicious 
words  against  those  who  oppose  him  when  fair  words 
will  no  longer  serve  his  turn. 

I  have  known  more  than  one  of  these  orators,  and  can 
see  them  in  my  mind's  eye  as  I  speak,  taking  the  floor 
with  a  Sir  Oracle  air,  brandishing  their  arms  in  the  heat 
of  their   contention  or  swinging  an    eyeglass  round  a 


DIOTROPHES.  263 


finger  to  shew  how  much  they  are  at  ease,  fussing  with 
trembh'ng  hand  among  their  "documents,"  which  arc 
generally  in  a  hopeless  confusion,  and  flinging  themselves 
into  their  seats,  after  having  poured  forth  their  "  infinite 
deal  of  nothing,"  as  who  should  say,  "Now  that  I  have 
opened  my  lips,  let  no  dog  bark."  And,  indeed,  who 
docs  not  know,  by  constant  and  painful  experience,  that 
the  men  who  arc  most  ready  to  speak  and  advise  are  the 
men  who  are  least  worth  hearing  ;  while  those  whom  all 
would  be  glad  to  hear  arc  as  slow  to  speak  as  they  are 
slow  to  wrath,  some  of  them  requiring  a  kind  of  pressure 
which  almost  amounts  to  51  surgical  operation  before  they 
can  be  induced  to  open  their  mouths  in  public  ?  Who 
does  not  know,  by  his  own  experience,  that  when  once 
a  man  has  delivered  \\\s  opinion,  however  hastily  he  may 
have  formed  it,  he  has  made  it  tenfold  more  difficult  to 
judge  and  weigh  the  arguments  which  tend  to  disprove 
it,  his  self-love  being  now  arrayed  against  them,  and  his 
natural  dislike  to  own  himself  in  the  wrong? 

And  if  the  itch  of  speaking  is  apt  to  lead  on  to  the 
prating  of  idle,  and  even  of  malicious,  words,  the  lust  of 
power  commonly  leads  to  an  abuse  oi  power.  "  John,  or 
Demetrius,  has  slighted  me.  Gaius  does  not  defer  to  me, 
or  my  wishes.  He  has  received  strange  brethren  without 
consulting  mc,  or  when  he  knew  that  I  had  forbidden 
their  reception.  Nothing,  then,  shall  induce  me  to  re- 
ceive them.    I  will  move  heaven  and  earth  against  them. 


264  DIOTROPHES. 


and  against  all  who  abet  them,  be  they  who  they  will :  " 
— when  a  man  has  once  reached  that  point,  and  Dio- 
trophes  seems  to  have  reached  it,  he  is  not  far  from  any 
evil  word  or  any  evil  work. 

No  punishment  is  more  unwelcome  to  such  an  one 
than  that  with  which  John  threatens  Diotrophes  :  "  I 
will  put  him  in  mind  of  his  words  and  his  works,"  bring 
him  to  book  for  them,  in  his  own  presence  and  in  that 
of  the  Church.  For  those  who  speak  untrue,  disloyal, 
malicious  words,  and  go  about  to  create  division  and 
strife  in  a  Church,  or  indeed  in  any  community,  take 
much  pains  to  conceal  them,  and  will  often  deny  them 
if  they  can ;  while,  often,  they  really  do  forget  the  words 
they  spoke  in  their  more  heated  and  voluble  moods,  and 
are  shocked  when  they  see  the  effects  they  have  pro- 
duced. They  dislike  nothing  so  much  as  being  com- 
pelled to  face  their  own  whispers,  and  to  see  how  they 
sound  in  honest  and  impartial  ears,  or  even  in  their 
own  cars  now  that  their  excitement  and  irritation  have 
subsided. 

Diotrophes,  then,  was  a  man  who  was  not  necessarily, 
or  wholly,  bad  ;  a  man  who  may  have  had  many  good 
qualities  and  have  done  some  service  to  the  Church  ; 
but  his  good  qualities  were  blended  with  and  their  good 
effects  vitiated  by  an  exorbitant  self-conceit  and  loqua- 
city. So  vain,  so  bent  on  influence  and  supremacy,  as 
to  be  capable  of  the  most  cruel  intolerance  in  asserting 


DJOTROPHES.  265 


his  supremacy  ;  so  talkative  as  to  be  capable  of  slipping 
into  malicious  and  wicked  words  rather  than  hold  his 
tongue  or  let  the  Church  defer  to  other  guidance  than 
his  own,  he  offers  a  much  needed  warning  to  many 
a  man  of  "spotless  respectability  and  worrying  temper, 
of  pious  principles  and  worldly  aims,"  of  good  intentions 
but  a  too  voluble  tongue  ;  who,  because  he  thinks  more 
highly  of  himself  than  he  ought  to  think,  flatters  himself 
that  he  is  serving  the  Church  when  he  is  only  pandering 
to  his  self-importance  and  self-conceit,  and  is  cruelly 
injuring  the  Church  he  professes  to  love. 

"  Bc/ovc(f"  exclaims  St.  John,  when  he  had  completed 
his  miniature  of  Diotrophes,  "  imitate  not  that  ivJiich  is 
evil,  but  that  zvhich  is  good.  He  that  doeth  good  is  of 
God ;  he  that  doeth  evil  hath  not  seen  God."  And  by  this 
exhortation  I  do  not  understand  him  to  imply  that 
Diotrophes  was  an  utterly  bad  man  who  had  never  seen 
God,  never  taken  the  first  step  toward  a  participation 
of  the  Divine  Nature  ;  any  more  than  he  means  that 
Demetrius,  whom  he  forthwith  begins  to  describe,  was 
a  man  wholly  good,  in  whom  no  fault  could  be  found. 
But  I  do  understand  him  to  mean  that  a  vain  man,  too 
fond  of  hearing  himself  talk,  too  bent  on  taking  the 
foremost  place,  is  closing  his  eyes  against  the  heavenly 
vision,  and  may  do  as  much  harm  as  if  his  intents  were 
bad.  He  does  mean,  I  think,  that  mere  words — whether 
the  fluent  professions  of  a  Diotrophes  or  the  earnest 


266  PIOTROPHES. 


preaching  of  a  Demetrius — are  of  comparatively  little 
account ;  that  it  is  by  a  man's  deeds  that  he  must  be 
judged :  that  if  he  does  good,  if  his  life  tells  for 
righteousness,  charity,  and  peace,  he  is  a  good  man  ; 
but  that  if  he  does  evil,  if  the  total  effect  of  his  life  and 
labours  is  against  righteousness  and  charity  and  peace, 
he  is  a  bad  man.  The  Apostle  may  imply  that,  as 
Demetrius  was  undoubtedly  doing  a  good  work,  he  was 
a  good  man  ;  and  that  Diotrophcs,  in  so  far  as  he 
opposed  and  crippled  that  work,  was  doing  an  evil  work 
and  took  his  place  among  evil  men.  But  what  the 
Apostle  would  have  ns  do  is  not  so  much  to  censure 
Diotrophes,  and  cast  him  out  of  the  Church  as  unworthy 
of  a  place  in  it — that  would  only  be  to  follow  the  bad 
example  of  the  man  himself;  but  to  resolve  that  we  will 
not  follow  his  bad  example,  that  we  will  not  suffer  our 
vanity  to  blind  us  to  our  own  faults,  our  talkativeness, 
if  we  are  talkative,  to  sink  into  slander  and  a  malicious 
prating  as  injurious  to  ourselves  as  to  our  neighbours. 
If  you  can  find  any  good  in  any  Diotrophes  you  know, 
love  it  and  imitate  it  ;  but  do  not  follow  that  which 
is  evil  in  him,  or  be  too  ready  to  make  excuse  for  it 
because  you  find  some  germ  of  that  evil  in  your  own 
hearts  :  nay,  turn  his  very  faults  to  use,  and  let  your 
dislike  of  them  make  you  less  self-opinionated,  less  wise 
in  your  own  conceit,  less  willing  to  let  your  tongue 
become  a  fire.     And  as  you  cannot  look  at  such  men 


DIOTROPHES.  267 


as  Gains  and  Demetrius  without  seeing  in  them  much 
to  admire  and  approve,  imitate  them  ;  draw  some  touch 
of  their  generosity,  their  large  charity,  their  disinterested 
devotion,  their  burning  zeal,  into  your  hearts  and  Hvcs. 
Let  your  reh"gion  shew  itself  in  deeds  rather  than  in 
words,  in  a  life  conformed  by  the  grace  of  Christ  to  the 
will  of  God,  not  in  loud  professions  and  loquacious 
speeches ;  nor  in  an  intolerant  temper,  and  your  readi- 
ness to  sit  in  judgment  on  your  brethren  and  to  pass 
sharp  and  pungent  verdicts  upon  them. 

"  Who  is  wise  and  understanding  among  you  ?  Let 
him  shew,  by  his  good  life,  his  works  in  meekness  and 
wisdom.  But  if  ye  have  bitter  jealousy  and  faction  in 
your  heart,  glory  not,  and  lie  not  against  the  truth. 
This  wisdom  is  not  a  wisdom  that  cometh  down  from 
above,  but  is  earthly,  brutish,  demoniacal.  For  where 
jealousy  and  faction  are,  there  are  confusion  and  every 
evil  deed.  But  the  wisdom  that  is  from  above  is  first 
pure,  then  peaceable,  gentle,  easy  to  be  intreated,  full 
of  mercy  and  good  fruits,  without  variance,  without 
hypocrisy.  And  the  fruit  of  righteousness  is  sown  in 
peace  by  them  that  make  peace." 


XIX. 

GAIUS. 

"  I  rejoiced  greatly  when  brethren  came  and  bare  witness  unto 
thy  truth,  even  as  thou  walkest  in  truth." — iii.  John  3. 

With  few  but  pregnant  strokes  of  his  pencil,  St.  John 
sketches  for  us,  in  this  brief  Letter,  three  men,  of  each 
of  whom  it  is  worth  our  while  to  form  as  clear  a  concep- 
tion as  we  can  —  Demetrius,  Diotrophes,  and  Gaius. 
Two  of  these  have  already  engaged  our  attention.  We 
found  Demetrius  to  have  been  an  evangelist,  a  travelling 
evangelist  or  missionary,  who,  for  the  love  he  bore  to 
the  Name  (of  Christ),  had  devoted  himself  to  the  service 
of  the  Gentiles,  at  the  cost  of  many  toils,  privations, 
perils ;  and  who  was  animated  by  a  spirit  so  disin- 
terested and  brave,  by  a  zeal  so  ardent  and  sustained, 
that  he  won  for  himself  the  testimony  of  all  who  were 
capable  of  appreciating  truth  and  goodness,  of  the  very 
truth  itself,  and  of  the  revered  and  beloved  Apostle 
John.  Diotrophes,  on  the  other  hand,  though  he  may 
have  had  his  good  points — and  must  have  had  them, 
or  why  should  he  have  joined  the  Church  at  the  cost 


GAIUS.  269 


of  breaking  with  the  world? — was  a  man  who  carried 
the  spirit  and  methods  of  the  world  into  the  Church, 
and  was  as  self-seeking  and  self-confident  as  ever, 
although  he  now  veiled  his  self-regarding  ends  under 
the  forms  and  phrases  of  Religion.  St.  John  only 
charges  him  with  two  faults,  vanity  and  loquacity,  and 
neither  of  these  charges  may  sound  very  grave.  But 
when  a  man  is  so  vain,  so  bent  on  supremacy  as  that, 
to  assert  his  supremacy  and  indulge  his  vanity,  he  is 
capable  of  cruelty  and  intolerance,  casting  out  of  the 
Church  all  who  stand  in  his  way  or  differ  from  him  ; 
when  he  is  so  loquacious  as  to  be  capable  of  prating 
wicked  or  malicious  words  rather  than  hold  his  tongue 
or  suffer  the  Church  to  defer  to  any  guidance  but  his 
own,  his  faults,  however  innocent  they  may  seem,  have 
grown  and  darkened  into  crimes  as  fatal  to  the  health 
of  his  own  soul  as  they  are  to  the  peace  and  welfare 
of  the  Church.  And  it  was  because  the  vanity  and 
talkativeness  of  Diotrophcs,  long  cherished  and  long 
indulged,  had  reached  this  exorbitant  and  criminal 
pitch  that  St.  John  rebuked  and  threatened  to  expose 
him. 

We  are  now  to  study  the  character  of  Gaius,  the 
sincere  and  generous  host  of  Demetrius,  the  quiet  but 
sturdy  opponent  of  the  intolerance  and  tyranny  of 
Diotrophcs ;  and  the  study  should  be  very  welcome  to 
us  since,  if  he  has  not  climbed  so  high  as  the  fervent 


270  GAIUS. 


and  zealous  Evangelist,  still  less  has  he  fallen  so  low 
as  the  prating  lover  of  pre-eminence  who  would  not 
defer  even  to  the  Apostle  himself.  He  is  more  on  our 
level,  it  may  be,  than  either  of  the  other  two,  and  reveals 
a  strain  of  character  which  should  not  be  beyond  our 
reach. 

With  his  first  touch  St.  John  strikes  the  ground-note, 
or  the  key-note,  of  the  whole  music  which  went  to  make 
up  the  character  of  the  man,  Gaius  was  one  who 
"  walked  in  truth"  and  so  walked  in  it  that  men  "  bore 
witness  to  his  t7-iitk."  The  Greek  word  here  rendered 
"  truth  "  might,  if  the  change  were  worth  making,  be 
rendered  "  reality."  But  neither  word,  and  indeed  no 
one  English  word,  conveys,  or  can  convey,  its  whole 
meaning  and  force,  the  entire  circle  of  its  implications, 
to  those  who  are  ignorant  of  the  Original.  Even  in  a 
paraphrase  I  am  only  too  likely  to  omit  some  shade  of 
significance  which  I  should  be  glad  to  include.  But 
if  I  say  that  Gaius  was  a  true  man,  a  genuine  man, 
a  real  man,  whose  life  was  all  of  one  piece,  whose  daily 
conduct  was  the  practical  outcome  and  inference  from 
the  truths  he  believed,  I  may  perhaps  help  you  to  some 
conception  of  the  Apostle's  meaning.  Still  he  implies 
much  more  than  he  says,  and  we  must  try  to  recover  his 
implications  also. 

We  may,  and  must,  infer  from  his  stress  on  the  word 
"  truth  "  that  Gaius  cared  more  for  deeds  than  for  words ; 


GAIUS.  271 


that  there  was  not  that  unhappy  divorce  between  his 
professions  and  his  actions,  his  creed  and  his  conduct, 
which  we  may  sec  in  Diotrophes  and  recognize  only  too 
clearly  in  ourselves.  He  did  not  look  one  way,  and 
walk  another.  He  did  not  say  one  thing,  and  mean 
another.  He  did  not  approve  the  better,  and  follow  the 
worse,  course.  There  was  no  hypocrisy,  no  insincerity, 
in  him.  He,  the  whole  man,  was  " ///  the  truth;"  or, 
as  wc  might  phrase  it,  the  truth  was  /;/  him,  had  taken 
possession  of  him,  reigned  in  his  heart,  ruled  his  life ; 
and  that  so  evidently  that,  though  he  must  have  had  his 
slips  and  faults,  men  felt  as  they  looked  at  him,  "  This 
man  is  true,  true  to  himself,  true  to  his  creed,  true  to 
his  Master  ;  we  know  where  to  have  him  ;  we  can  trust 
him,  and  foretell  his  course.  Come  what  may,  no 
danger,  no  allurement,  will  draw  or  drive  him  from  his 
stedfast  and  habitual  round,  or  make  him  unfaithful 
to  the  faith  and  service  of  Christ." 

And  we  may  also  infer  that  Gains  was  not  one  who 
would  bring  the  spirit  and  methods  of  the  world  into  the 
Church.  Diotrophes  might  be  as  selfish,  as  opinionated, 
as  ambitious,  as  subtle  and  scheming,  as  he  was  before 
he  had  entered  the  Christian  fellowship,  and  might 
pursue  his  ends  with  the  old  eagerness  and  conceit  and 
loquacity,  pushing  himself  forward,  and  keeping  a  fore- 
most place  in  it,  by  the  very  means  by  which  he  had 
sought  eminence  and  success  in   the  world.     But  that 


272  GAIUS. 


was  not  possible  to  a  true  man,  a  genuine  Christian, 
such  as  Gaius,  who  really  believed  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,  and  cared  for  nothing  so  much  as  to  be  conformed 
in  heart  and  life  to  the  gentle,  lowly,  and  unworldly  Son 
of  Man. 

Nor,  again,  could  a  true  man,  in  the  Apostle's  sense, 
yield  to  that  still  more  subtle  and  fatal  temptation  by 
vvhich  those  are  overcome  in  whom  religion  degenerates, 
as  it  seems  to  have  done  in  Diotrophes,  into  mere  eccle- 
siasticism  or  sectarianism  ;  who  consider  themselves 
good  servants  of  Christ,  and  even  pillars  of  his  Church, 
if  they  make  a  stand  for  orthodoxy,  or  busily  engage 
in  the  management  of  Church  affairs,  and  set  themselves 
to  promote  sectional  or  denominational  interests.  True 
religion  does  not  consist  in,  it  is  not  always  consistent 
with,  an  eager  devotion  to  doctrines  and  sacraments  and 
Church  business,  but  in  a  repentance  which  is  ever 
growing  more  deep,  in  a  righteousness  ever  growing 
more  pure,  in  a  charity  ever  growing  more  warm  and 
large.  A  too  keen  and  exclusive  interest  in  the  outside 
of  the  cup  and  the  platter  is  as  dangerous  in  the  Church 
as  it  is  anywhere  else.  And  it  has  become  too  exclusive 
and  keen  when  we  care  comparatively  little  for  the  food 
which  ought  to  be  in  the  platter,  and  the  wine  which 
ought  to  be  in  the  cup,  or  so  partake  of  them  as  that 
we  do  not  grow  in  wisdom,  in  holiness,  in  love  to  God 
and  man. 


GAJUS.  273 


From  all  these  faults  and  errors  Gaius  was  free.  Of 
an  incorrigible  and  losing  honesty,  it  was  his  distinction 
that  he  was  in  the  truth,  and  that  he  was  walkiNq;  i.e., 
growing  and  advancing,  in  the  truth  of  Christ ;  that  the 
truth  was  making  him  true — true  in  thought,  in  motive, 
in  word,  in  deed,  insomuch  that  when  the  eye  saw  him, 
it  bore  witness  unto  him. 

St.  James  has  taught  us  (Chap.  i.  27)  that  unworldli- 
ness  and  charity  constitute  the  true  ritualism  of  the 
Christian  Church,  that  these  arc  the  main  forms  in  which 
a  pure  and  undefilcd  religion  now  finds  expression. 
And  the  charity  of  Gaius  was  as  conspicuous  as  h*is 
unworldliness.  Not  only  had  he  received  and  enter- 
tained strangers,  who  were  also  brethren,  setting  forward 
Demetrius  and  other  travelling  evangelists  on-  their 
journey  ;  he  continued  to  receive  and  serve  them  even 
when  Diotrophes  forbad  him,  and  had  persuaded  the 
Church  to  excommunicate  those  who  ventured  to  receive 
them.  He  could  do  no  other ;  for  he  walked  in  truth. 
He  believed  that  all  who  were  in  Christ  were  his  breth- 
ren, even  though  they  were  strangers  to  him  ;  and  he 
was  bound  to  treat  them  as  his  brethren,  even  though, 
for  being  true  to  his  convictions,  he  was  cut  off  from 
the  body  of  Christ. 

What  it  was  exactly  at  which  Diotrophes  took  offence 
whether  in  St.  John  or  in  Demetrius  and  his  fellows,  we 
arc  not  told  ;  but,  as  I  tried  to  shew  in  my  last  discourse, 
19 


274  GAIUS. 


it  seems  probable  that  he  objected  to  the  missionaries 
from  Ephesus  because  they  were  strangers,  or  because 
they  did  not  defer  to  him  as  he  thought  they  should  do 
to  a  man  of  his  consequence.  Nor  are  we  told  how  he 
induced  a  majority  of  his  fellow-members  to  follow  him, 
and  to  cast  out  those  who  would  not  follow  him  ;  but  it 
seems  probable,  as  I  also  tried  to  shew  you,  that  he 
appealed  to  their  love  and  respect  for  the  memory  of 
St.  Paul,  the  venerated  founder  of  their  Church,  and 
turned  their  love  of  St.  Paul  into  a  jealousy  of  St.  John's 
authority,  if  not  into  a  suspicion  of  his  teaching.  When 
the  beloved  Apostle  complains,  "  Diotrophes  receiveth 
not  tisl'  but  "  prateth  against  us  with  malicious  words," 
we  cannot  but  suspect  that  Diotrophes  had  set  the  less 
wise  and  experienced  members  of  the  Church  on  asking  : 
"  What  right  has  John  to  interfere  in  our  affairs  ? "  or 
even,  "  Is  not  John  departing  from  the  lines  of  thought 
and  action  laid  down  by  Paul,  and  preaching  another 
^gospel  than  his  ? "  And  if  these  questions  were  once 
asked,  and  answered  as  Diotrophes  would  have  them 
answered,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  Gaius'  fidelity  to  the 
truth  would  be  heavily  taxed.  But,  because  he  was  in 
the  truth  and  walked  in  the  truth,  he  had  room  in  his 
heart  for  all  who  taught,  and  loved,  and  served  the 
truth.  St.  John  was  as  dear  to  him  as  St.  Paul,  and  the 
truths  taught  by  the  one  Apostle  elicited  a  response 
from  him  as  quick  and  fervent  as  the  truths  taught  by 


GAIUS.  275 


the  other  :  for  it  is  not  men  who  arc  ///  the  truth,  but 
only  those  who  hang  on  to  its  skirts,  who  are  afraid 
of  any  truth  with  which  they  are  not  already  familiar. 
Nor  was  he  to  be  talked  out  of  his  loyalty  to  truth,  or 
threatened  out  of  it.  Truth  in  every  form  was  welcome 
to  him,  let  who  would  teach  it,  let  who  would  prate 
against  it.  It  was  his  duty  to  receive  brethren  even  if 
they  were  strangers.  It  was  his  duty  to  listen  to  all 
who  had  the  mind  of  Christ,  even  though  they  knew 
more  of  that  Mind  than  he  did.  And  he  must  do  his 
duty,  even  though  for  doing  it  he  were  cast  out  from  a 
fellowship  which  was  very  dear  to  him. 

A  certain  genuineness  and  wholeness,  then,  a  certain 
staunchness  and  loyalty,  combined  with  great  breadth 
and  tolerance,  seems  to  have  been  characteristic  of  the 
hospitable  and  kindly  Gains.  He  was  in  the  truth, 
lie  walked  in  truth.  There  was  a  clear  accord,  a 
fruitful  harmony,  between  his  principles  and  his  practice 
which  gave  unity  and  force  to  his  life.  He  could  be 
true  to  truth,  come  whence  it  would.  He  could  be  true 
to  men,  even  when  they  were  reviled  and  thrust  out  of 
the  Church.  He  could  be  true  to  the  claims  of  Christian 
charity,  even  when  his  fidelity  would  shut  him  out  from 
communion  with  men  whom  he  loved  and  had  served. 
In  fine,  he  was  a  man  who  stood  on  his  own  feet,  used 
his  own  eyes,  and  was  faithful  to  the  inspirations  of  the 
Divine   Comforter  and   Guide  who  had    taken    up   his 


276  GAIUS. 


abode  with  him.  And,  in  St.  Paul's  striking  phrase,  he 
" tnitJied  it  in  love"  cherishing  and  exhibiting  a  charity 
from  which  I  suspect  that  not  even  Diotrophes  him- 
self was  excluded,  and  which  utterly  refused  to  let 
Demetrius  go  even  when  world  and  Church  combined 
against  him. 

Now  this  large,  stcdfast,  yet  gentle  loyalty  to  truth  is 
as  essential  to  a  genuine,  a  real  and  strong,  Christian 
character  now  as  it  was  then  ;  a  loyalty  which  can  not 
only  stand  against  the  narrow  intolerance  of  a  Dio- 
trophes, and  sympathize  with  the  disinterested  zeal  of 
a  Demetrius,  but  can  also  bring  the  large  generous 
truths  in  which  we  believe  to  bear  upon  our  daily  life 
and  practice,  and  constrain  us  to  receive  and  set  forward 
all  who  are  serving  the  truth,  "  that  we  may  be  fellow- 
workers  with  the  truth  "  they  teach.  Before  we  can  put 
ourselves  even  on  the  modest  level  of  Gaius,  we  must 
ask  ourselves,  "  What  risks  have  we  run,  what  sacrifices 
have  we  made,  what  pleasant  fellowships  have  we  put  in 
jeopardy,  that  we  might  stand  up  for  unpopular  truths, 
or  back  up  the  men  who  were  enforcing  and  defending 
them  .''  What  toil  and  pain  have  we  undergone  that  we 
might  bring  our  daily  conduct  into  harmony  with  our 
convictions  ?  What  good  causes  have  we  served  and 
set  forward,  in  the  persons  of  their  advocates,  that  wc 
might  have  our  share  in  the  good  work  .-'"  If  we  cannot 
give  a  fairly  satisfactory  answer  to  such  questions  as 


GAIUS.  277 


these,  I  do  not  say  that  our  faith  is  vain,  or  that  we 
have  no  religion  ;  but  I  do  say  that  our  religion  has  not 
the  genuine  ring,  that  wc  have  not  compelled  men  to 
bear  witness  to  our  truth,  much  less  compelled  the  truth 
itself  to  bear  witness  to  us. 

There  are  men,  no  doubt,  who  have  a  terrible  struggle 
to  wage  in  the  sacred  precincts  of  their  own  soul  before 
they  can  make  religion  the  ruling  influence  and  power 
of  their  lives  ;  and  of  these,  perhaps,  we  must  not  expect 
much  public  service  until  the  issue  of  the  inward  conflict 
has  been  decided  ;  though  I  believe  that,  even  in  this 
inward  personal  war,  they  would  be  greatly  aided  were 
tlicy  to  make  it  more  impersonal,  and  to  care  and  con- 
tend for  the  salvation  of  other  men  instead  of  simply 
fighting  for  their  own  hand.  And  there  are  other  men 
who  are  so  engrossed  and  exhausted  by  the  labours  and 
cares,  the  occupations  and  irritations,  of  their  daily 
business  that  they  have  as  much  as  they  can  do  in 
bringing  the  spirit  of  religion  to  bear  on  their  daily 
task,  and  have  neither  leisure  nor  energy  left  for  works 
of  public  usefulness.  But,  remember,  those  who  are 
thus  occupied  and  absorbed  by  business  duties  or  house- 
hold cares,  in  their  strenuous  endeavour  to  bring  their 
daily  life  under  law  to  Christ,  are  building  up  a  character 
which  is  possibly  the  best  contribution  they  can  make  to 
the  service  of  the  Church,  and  are  hourly  bearing  witness 
to   the   elevating   and    ennobling   power   of  the   truth. 


278  GAIUS. 


Remember,  we  are  not  told  that  Gaius  talked  Dio- 
trophes  down,  or  that  he  made  a  masterly  defence  of 
St.  John,  or  even  that  he  took  a  prominent  part  whether 
in  managing  the  affairs  or  conducting  the  services  of  the 
Church.  All  we  are  told  of  him  is  that  he  shewed  much 
sympathy  with  the  strangers  whom  John  had  commended 
to  the  Church,  that  his  sympathy  took  very  practical 
forms,  and  that  he  exercised  it  at  the  risk,  and  perhaps 
at  the  cost,  of  losing  the  sympathy  of  brethren  who  were 
not  strangers,  and  with  whom  he  habitually  worshipped. 
He  may  have  been,  he  may  have  done,  far  more  than 
this,  for  we  have  only  a  momentary  photograph  of  him 
in  a  single  attitude ;  and  for  myself  I  sometimes  think 
of  him  as  the  doing  iS,<t2.cox\  of  the  Church,  in  opposition 
to  Diotrophes,  the  talking  deacon.  But  all  this  is  mere 
conjecture.  All  that  we  know  of  him  is  that  he  was  a 
genuine  man,  of  fine  character,  who  once  ran  a  grave 
risk  that  he  might  be  loyal  to  his  principles  and  con- 
victions. He  may  have  been  one  of  the  quietest  of  men, 
with  no  gift  for  Church  work,  and  no  ambition  beyond 
his  gifts.  But  no  one  could  really  know  him  without 
feeling  that  he  was  a  true  man,  a  true  Christian,  whose 
piety  was  not  in  word  and  in  tongue,  but  in  deed  and  in 
truth.  And  I  suppose  we  have  all  met  such  men,  and 
found  it  good  to  be  with  them  ;  men  with  whom  we  felt 
that  we  must  talk  on  higher  themes  than  commonly 
haunt  our  lips,  and  carry  ourselves  with  a  simplicity  and 


GAIUS.  279 


a  sincerity  beyond  that  \vc  commonly  shew  ;  men  who 
cared  little  for  show  and  form,  who  did  not  deal  in  glib 
pious  phrases  or  sectarian  catch-words,  but  who  all  the 
saine  made  us  feel  that  they  were  nearer  Christ  and 
more  like  Him  than  many  a  loud  professor  of  religion. 

My  brethren,  the  discipline  of  life,  and  the  advantages 
and  privileges  of  the  Christian  life,  have  been  wasted  on 
us  if,  whatever  our  gifts  or  our  lack  of  them,  whatever 
our  opportunities  or  our  lack  of  them,  we  have  not 
built  up  for  ourselves,  or  arc  not  building  up,  such  a 
character  as  this  ;  if,  whether  wc  do,  or  do  not,  strive 
and  cry,  and  cause  our  name  to  be  heard  in  the  streets, 
there  is  no  quiet  sanctuary  within  our  souls,  from  which 
a  light  is  sometimes  seen,  and  prayers  and  songs  are 
sometimes  heard,  and  a  hallowed  influence  constantly 
proceeds,  to  prove,  to  all  who  arc  capable  of  receiving 
proof,  that  Christ  has  an  altar  and  a  throne  within  us, 
and  is  the  true  Lord  and  Ruler  of  our  life.  If  we  are 
really  walking  in  the  truth,  we  7iiust  in  various  methods, 
some  of  them  very  quiet  and  simple,  but  not  therefore 


and  shapes  our  wa}s. 


XX. 

LOTS   WIFE, 

"  Remember  Lot's  wife." — LUKE  xvii.  32. 

But  what  are  we  to  remember  ?  What  is  the  precise 
point  which  the  example  of  Lot's  wife  is  adduced  to 
illustrate  ?  Obviously,  it  is  the  peril  of  looking  back,  of 
hanging  in  poise,  of  halting  between  two,  in  the  critical 
moments  of  life,  in  hours  of  decision. 

Our  Lord  is  speaking  of  his  advent  to  judge  the  world, 
whether  that  Advent  take  place  when  a  great  city,  a 
great  empire,  a  great  economy,  passes  away  in  blood  and 
fire  and  smoke  ;  or  in  those  crowded  moments  of  our 
individual  lives  in  which  we  have  to  make  an  instant  and 
pregnant  decision  between  the  warring  affections  and 
desires  of  the  soul  that  will  give  a  ply  or  bias  to  our 
whole  after  life.  At  such  moments  Christ  "  comes  "  to 
us,  comes  to  force  us  to  decision,  to  compel  us  to  choose 
between  the  higher  and  the  lower  aims  of  human  life, 
and  to  shew  what  manner  of  spirit  we  are  of.  He  de- 
scends— so  the  context  implies — with  all  his  train,  and 


LOTS  WIFE.  281 


flashes  by  us  with  h'ghtning  speed.  If  \vc  so  love  Ilim, 
and  all  that  He  stands  for  and  represents  to  us,  that  at 
once,  without  any  hesitation  or  delay,  we  choose  the 
better  part  and  join  his  train,  we  not  only  escape  con- 
demnation ;  we  save,  we  quicken,  our  life  into  life  eternal. 
But  if,  as  in  the  days  of  Noah,  and  again  in  the  days  of 
Lot,  we  are  so  busy  in  eating  and  drinking,  buying  and 
selling,  planting  and  building,  marrying  and  giving  in 
marriage,  so  preoccupied  with  the  cravings  and  affairs  of 
this  present  world,  or  so  drowned  in  self-indulgence  and 
sensuous  desires,  as  that  "  the  things  of  the  spirit  "  have 
little  charm  and  value  for  us,  and  we  let  the  critical 
auspicious  moment  pass  ;  if,  as  the  heavenly  pageant 
flashes  by,  we  do  not  lift  up  our  heads  and  cry,  "  Thine 
are  we,  O  Christ,  and  on  thy  side,  thou  Son  of  Man," 
we  miss  our  happy  chance,  and  lose  our  life  instead  of 
saving  it. 

Nay,  more  :  if  we  ox\\y  hesitate  ;  if,  being  on  the  house- 
top, instead  of  running  down  the  outer  staircase  in  our 
eagerness  to  obey  the  divine  summons,  we  go  down  into 
the  house,  to  carry  away  with  us  some  hidden  treasure  ; 
or  if,  being  in  the  field,  we  hurry  home,  to  snatch  up 
some  precious  toy  that  we  hold  too  dear  to  be  left 
behind  ;  or  if,  having  responded  to  the  call,  we  look 
back  on  what  we  have  left  with  a  strength  of  desire 
which  betrays  a  heart  whose  affections  are  not  "  set  "  on 
the  best  things  :  if,  in  short,  we  are  "  men  of  two  minds," 


282  LOT'S  WIFE. 


and  do  not  give  the  better  mind  full  sway,  why,  then, 
we  lose  not  only  that  which  we  have  so  unduly  and 
untimely  loved,  but  life,  our  true  life,  itself;  for  our  life 
does  not  consist  in  the  abundance  of  things  which  we 
possess,  but  in  such  a  love  and  pursuit  of  truth  and  good- 
ness, righteousness  and  charity,  such  a  fellowship  with 
Him  who  is  the  Source  of  all  truth  and  goodness,  as 
constrains  us  to  cleave  to  Him  at  all  risks,  and  makes  us 
count  the  world  well  lost  if  only  we  may  be  found  in 
Him,  sharing  his  righteousness,  and  animated  by  his 
love. 

Now  such  crises  as  these  may  be  rare — Coleridge 
affirms  that  they  are  rare,  that  ^^  seldom  comes  the  moment 
in  life  "  so  charged  as  "  to  make  a  great  decision  pos- 
sible ; "  but  they  come  to  us  all :  crises  in  which  we  have 
to  make  an  instant  choice  between  evil  and  good,  between 
that  which  is  sensuous  and  temporary  and  that  which  is 
spiritual  and  eternal.  And  our  choice  is  our  doom,  our 
judgment.  By  every  such  decision  we  betray  our  ruling 
aim,  and  adjudge  ourselves  worthy,  or  unworthy,  of 
eternal  life.  It  is  to  help  us  in  these  choices,  to  guide 
us  to  a  wise  decision,  to  warn  us  that  it  must  be  prompt, 
whole-hearted,  irrevocable,  that  our  Lord  bids  us  "re- 
member Lot's  wife." 

When  the  hour  of  judgment  struck  with  her,  she  made 
— possibly  by  the  persuasions  of  her  husband  and  chil- 
dren,  possibly   by  the  terrors  of  the  moment,  she  was 


LOTS  WIFE.  283 


constrained  to  make — the  right  choice.  But  her  heart 
was  not  in  it,  or,  at  least,  her  whole  heart.  And  what 
wonder  ?  The  command  of  Jehovah  was  clear  and 
imperative  indeed  '  :  "  Up,  take  thy  wife  and  thy 
daughters,  lest  thou  be  consumed  ; "  and,  again,  "  Es- 
cape for  thy  life;  look  not  behind  thee,  neither  stay  thou 
in  all  the  Circle  ;  escape  to  the  mountains,  lest  thou  be 
consumed."  But  they  had  grown  wealthy  at  Sodom, 
and  had  risen  to  respect  and  honour.  Her  children  had 
been  bred,  if  not  born,  there  ;  some  of  them  had  married 
there,  and  so  settled  down  into  the  life  of  the  city  that 
they  had  refused  to  leave  it.  Even  Lot  himself  had 
"  lingered "  when  the  command  first  came,  and  had 
shewn  himself  so  loath  to  leave  a  place  endeared  to 
him  by  many  attachments  and  associations  that  the 
angels  had  to  take  him  by  the  hand,  "  the  Lord  being 
merciful  unto  him,"  and  drag  him  out  of  the  city.  What 
wonder,  then,  if  so  soon  as  they  had  reached  a  halting- 
place,  and  could  look  back  from  the  hill  of  Zoar,  and  see 
the  terrible  volcanic  outburst  by  which  the  guilty  city 
was  consumed,  that  his  wife  fell  back  behind  him,  "  and 
looked  back  from  behind  him  "  ? 

Who  can  tell  by  how  many  emotions  she  was  drawn 

to  violate,  or  even  led  to  forget,  the  divine  command, 

"  Look  not  behind  thee  "  ?      Curiosity,  awe,  terror,  may 

all  have  impelled  her,  as  well  as  love  for  the  children  left 

'  Genesis  .\ix. 


284  LOT'S  WIFE. 


behind  and  the  place  in  which  she  had  known  so  many 
happy  prosperous  hours.  But,  happily  for  us,  the  word 
and  laws  of  God  hold  on  their  course,  we  do  not  escape 
their  sweep  and  stroke,  however  innocent  our  intentions 
may  be,  or  however  strangely  compounded  of  ill  and 
good.  The  motives  of  Lot's  wife  may  have  been  inno- 
cent enough,  or  even  laudable :  for  what  of  wrong  is 
there  in  loving  a  place  in  which  we  have  lived,  or  even  in 
an  overmastering  desire  to  turn  and  look  at  a  great  and 
terrible  spectacle  ?  and  how  can  a  mother's  heart  but  go 
out  to  her  children  when  they  are  in  deadly  peril  1  But 
however  innocent  her  motives  may  have  been,  or  however 
strangely  innocent  may  have  been  blended  with  wrong 
motives  and  desires,  she  had  to  take  the  consequences 
and  bear  the  penalty  of  her  action  all  the  same.  Smothered 
with  the  sulphurous  smoke  of  the  volcanic  flames,  just  as 
the  elder  Pliny  was  suffocated  with  the  fumes  of  sulphur 
and  bitumen  at  the  destruction  of  Pompeii,  she  fell  into 
a  heap,  and  was  gradually  encrusted  with  the  saline  par- 
ticles of  which  the  air  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Dead 
Sea  is  still  full.  Such  heaps,  or  lumps,  formed  from 
spray,  mist,  and  saline  exhalations,  which  have  gathered 
round  a  core  of  fallen  trees  or  beasts,  are  still  common 
on  the  shores  of  that  Sea  of  Salt,  and  always  have  been 
common.  Josephus  identified  one  of  them  with  Lot's 
wife  more  than  eighteen  centuries  ago,  as  the  Arabs  do 
to  this  day. 


LOT'S  WIFE.  285 


We  need  not  sec  a  miracle,  therefore,  in  the  death  of 
Lot's  wife,  but  an  ilkistration  of  natural  laws.  Nor  need 
we  assume  that,  because  she  suffered  such  things  as  these, 
she  was  a  sinner  above  all  other  women,  or  that  her  fate 
in  the  world  beyond  death  at  all  resembled  her  fate  in 
this  world.  She  may  be  a  very  sufficient  and  wholesome 
warning  for* us  without  all  that,  a  warning  against  in- 
decision and  a  double  mind.  Nay,  I  think  that,  without 
all  that,  she  may  be  a  more  wholesome  and  effective 
warning.  For  she  may  serve  to  remind  us,  not  only  of 
the  peril  of  indecision,  and  a  divided  heart,  but  also  of 
the  strange  mysterious  way  in  which  the  laws  of  God 
exact  their  penalties  of  us,  whatever,  and  however  inno- 
cent, the  intention  with  which  we  violate  them.  The 
good  and  well-meaning  have  to  pay  these  penalties,  no 
less  than  the  bad  who  mean  ill.  The  best  and  kindest 
actions  may  entail  them  upon  us  as  well  as  the  most 
selfish  and  the  worst.  You  may  sit  up  every  night  for  a 
week  to  nurse  a  sick  mother  or  a  dying  child,  after  having 
worked  all  day  for  their  support ;  but  your  health  suffers 
from  the  strain  as  surely  as  if  some  ill  or  sordid  motive 
had  kept  you  from  your  bed.  You  may  rush  into  or 
through  the  flames  to  rescue  a  helpless  victim  from  the 
fire  ;  but  the  flames  will  as  surely  burn  you  as  though 
your  errand  had  been  to  steal  your  neighbour's  gold. 

And  it  is  well  that  the  divine  laws  do  hold  on  their 
course,   however   undeserved    the  suffering  they  inflict. 


286  LOT'S  WIFE. 


For,  if  they  did  not,  who  could  be  sure  of  anything? 
how  could  we  calculate  and  forecast  the  issues  of  any  of 
our  deeds  ?  The  whole  frame  of  human  life  would  be 
thrown  out  of  gear,  and  we  should  be  reduced  to  a  hope- 
less inutility  and  confusion,  if  we  could  not  count  on  the 
invariable  action  of  natural  laws,  even  though  their  action 
may  seem  at  times  cruel  and  unjust — if  v^ater  did  not 
drown,  if  fire  did  not  burn,  if  smoke  did  not  smother,  and 
steam  did  not  expand. 

But  though  we  may  admit  that  Lot's  wife  was  impelled 
to  look  back  by  perfectly  natural  emotions,  some  of 
which  were  innocent  or  even  laudable,  we  must  also 
admit,  I  think,  that  these  innocent  emotions  were  blended 
with  emotions  which  had  some  taint  of  guilt  and  dis- 
obedience. For  the  word  used  in  Genesis  (xix.  26)  when 
we  are  told  that  she  "  looked  back  "  on  the  burning  city 
is  a  different  and  much  stronger  word  than  that  used  two 
verses  lower  down,  where  we  are  told  that  Abraham 
"  looked  toward  Sodom  and  Gomorrah."  Abraham's 
look  was  only  a  rapid  and  terrified  glance  ;  but  the  look 
of  Lot's  wife  was — so  the  word  implies — a  look  "  of 
deliberate  contemplation,  of  stedfast  regard,  of  strong 
desired  She  looked  back  wistfully,  longingly,  as  one 
whose  treasure  was  in  the  City,  and  whose  heart  was 
there  also.  She  would  fain  have  gone  after  her  heart 
had  she  dared.  She  would  rather  have  stayed  amid  all 
the  sins  of  Sodom,  if  she  might  have  carried  on  her  old 


LOT'S  WIFE.  287 


easy  life  in  it,  than  have  climbed  the  mountain,  to  com- 
mence a  new  life  and  to  dwell  apart  with  God.  Her  look 
was  an  unspoken  prayer  ;  and  her  prayer  was  answered  : 
she  knew  "  the  misery  oi  2i  granted  prayer,"  She  lingered 
behind  as  one  who  would  fain  stay  behind  ;  and  she  did 
stay,  though  only  as  a  heap  of  salt,  and  of  salt  that  had 
lost  its  savour. 

There  is  a  grave  warning  for  us  here  ;  and  for  this 
warning  also  we  may  well  "  remember  Lot's  wife."  If  we 
suffer  her,  she  will  speak  to  us  not  only  of  the  peril  of  a 
divided  heart,  but  also  of  the  peril  of  prayer — the  peril 
of  cherishing  those  ardent  desires  which  are  often  our 
most  fervent  pra}'ers. 

Some  of  you  may  remember  that  Emerson  commenced 
his  career  as  a  Unitarian  minister,  and  that  the  first 
sermon  he  preached  had  Prayer  for  its  theme.  The  three 
divisions  of  his  sermon  (and  this  is  all  we  are  told  of  it) 
were  :  (i)  All  men  are  ahvays  praying ;  (2)  All  their 
prayers  are  ansu'ered ;  and  (^3)  Therefore  we  ought  to  be 
very  careful  zchat  iK.<e  ask  for.  And  in  the  history  of  Lot's 
wife,  or  of  her  lingering  longing  look,  we  may  find  an 
illustration  of  each  of  these  remarkable  divisions,  and  an 
explanation  of  assertions  which  may  perplex  the  im- 
mature mind:  viz.,  that  "all  men  are  (^/icwj'j  praying," 
and  that  "  all  their  prayers  are  answered," 

Prayer  need  not  be  vocal.  You  may  pray  without 
falling  on  your  knees  or  opening  your  lips.     "  Prayer  is 


288  LOT'S  WIFE. 


the  soul's  sincere  desire,"  the  soul's  strong  and  ruling 
desire,  whether  "  uttered  or  unexpressed."  And  as  all 
men  have  and  cherish  strong  desires,  even  though  they 
do  not  put  them  into  words,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  it 
is  true  that  "  all  men  are  always  praying."  And  these 
ruling  desires  have  a  strange  power,  a  strange  trick,  of 
fulfilling  themselves.  "As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart 
so  is  he,"  says  the  Wise  Man.  And  it  is  equally  true 
that  as  a  man  desireth  in  his  heart  so  is  he.  Our  several 
characters  are  but  the  sum  of  the  ruling  aims  and  desires 
which  we  have  cherished  and  pursued.  Desire  breeds 
action,  and  action  habit,  and  habit  doom.  We  a7'e  what 
we  would  be,  although  we  are  not  what  we  would  be. 
That  is  to  say,  our  present  character  is  the  result  of  the 
cravings  and  desires  we  have  cherished  and  indulged, 
though  they  do  not  correspond  to  the  highest  ideal 
which,  in  our  better  moods  and  hours  of  recollection,  we 
have  been  able  to  frame.  For  this  is  an  ideal  which  we 
have  not  always  held,  or  to  which  we  have  not  always 
been  true.  If  at  times  we  have  desired  "good  things," 
at  other  times  we  have  desired  "  evil  things,"  or  have  even 
mistaken  evil  for  good.  And  thus  we  have  arrived  at 
that  complex,  and  often  contradictory,  state  in  which 
good  and  evil  are  so  strangely  blended  that,  while  we  are 
what  we  have  desired  to  be,  we  arc  not  what  we  would 
be,  and  even  find  that  we  cannot  do  the  good  we  would, 
while  the  evil  we  would  not,  that  we  do. 


LOT'S  WIFE.  289 


But  if  these  strong  ruling  desires  are  our  real  prayers, 
and  have  this  strange  trick  of  fulfilling  themselves,  then 
it  is  true,  as  Emerson  says,  both  that  all  our  prayers  are 
answered,  and  that  we  should  be  very  careful  what  we 
pray  for — very  careful,  especially,  over  our  unspoken 
prayers.  For  when  we  speak  with  God,  if  we  speak  at  all 
intelligently  and  sincerely,  we  realize  his  presence  ;  and 
in  the  light  of  that  pure  Presence  we  sift,  and  purge,  and 
raise  our  desires  ;  we  ask  for  that  which  is  really  good, 
or  for  that  which  we  honestly  think  it  will  be  good  for 
us  to  have  ;  and  we  at  least  try  to  subordinate  our  wills 
to  his.  But  when  we  pray  without  words,  when  we 
simply  cherish  a  strong  desire  which,  though  it  may 
spring  from  nothing  better  than  a  sensual  or  a  selfish 
craving  for  ease  or  pleasure,  has  yet  all  the  force  of  a 
prayer,  we  may  forget  the  pure  and  awful  Presence  in 
which  we  always  stand  ;  we  may  fail  to  test  our  desire 
by  the  high  standard  of  his  will  ;  we  may  make  no  effort 
to  sift,  purge,  and  raise  our  souls  ;  and  before  we  have 
recognized  our  evil  plight,  we  too  may  know  the  misery 
of  a  granted  prayer,  and  be  suffocated  by  the  world's 
breath  and  encrusted  with  its  eating  and  consuming 
salt. 

There  are,  therefore,  at  least  two  occasions  on  which 
you  ought  to  "  remember  Lot's  wife,"  on  which  you 
ought  to  recall  and  accept  our  Lord's  warning. 

I.  In  those  crises  in  which  you  have  to  make  an 
20 


290  LOTS  WIFE. 


instant  choice  between  good  and  evil,  there  being  no 
leisure  for  deliberation  or  debate.  That  there  are  such 
critical  occasions  in  the  outward  affairs  of  life  Shake- 
speare has  taught  us  when  he  said,  or  made  Brutus  say. 

There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men 
Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune  ; 
Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 
Is  bound  in  shallows  and  in  miseries. 

And  who  does  not  know  that  there  are  similar,  and 
equally  urgent,  occasions  in  the  history  of  the  soul  ? 
When  a  great  temptation  meets  you,  in  one  of  those 
perilous  conjunctures  of  opportunity  and  inclination, 
when  the  appetite  for  gain  or  self-indulgence  is  strong 
and  you  have  what  seems  a  favourable  and  secret  chance 
of  gratifying  it,  a  chance  which,  if  not  seized  at  the 
moment,  will  be  gone  beyond  recall ;  if  you  stand  before 
it  with  a  doubtful  mind,  a  divided  heart,  drawn  this  way 
by  conscience  and  that  by  concupiscence,  then  remember 
Lot's  wife  :  remember  our  Lord's  warning  that,  if  at 
such  moments  of  decision  we  decide  wrongly,  we  miss 
a  happy  chance  of  serving  Him,  of  joining  his  train, 
of  saving  our  souls  from  an  irreparable  loss.  At  such 
moments  I  have  known  young  men  saved  by  the  voice 
of  a  kindly  bystander  who,  seeing  the  struggle  in  their 
face,  has  said,  "  I  would  not  do  it,  if  I  were  you.  Sir," 
or  by  a  sudden  recollection  of  a  pure  and  loving  home, 
and  of  the  grief  and  shame  with  which  it  would  be 


LOrS  WIFE.  291 


darkened  were  it  ever  known  that  they  had  yielded  to 
a  temptation  so  base.  And  how  could  they  help  being 
saved  if  they  remembered  that  the  kindest  Heart  in  the 
universe  would  be  pained  by  their  fall  ?  if  they  could 
hear  the  tender  voice  of  the  Son  of  Man,  saying,  "  Son, 
remember ;  remember  what  misery,  what  loss,  other 
tempted  souls  have  sustained  by  yielding  to  the  very 
temptation  before  which  you  stand,  and  do  not  thus 
pollute,  and  impoverish,  and  cast  away  your  soul." 

So,  too,  when  good  influences  are  abroad,  and  your 
soul  is  deeply  moved,  moved  to  yield  to  them  once  for 
all,  and  yet  you  shrink  from  breaking  with  the  world 
and  from  committing  yourselves  wholly  to  Him  who 
would  fain  lead  you  to  a  new  and  higher  life,  remember 
Lot's  wife,  and  what  a  happy  chance  she  threw  away 
by  her  indecision,  by  her  reluctance  to  break  from  the 
old  and  to  give  herself  to  the  new  and  better  way  of 
living  to  which  she  was  being  led  :  remember,  and  do 
not  look  back.  "Backward  looks  betray  backward  long- 
ings, and  beget  backward  steps."  An  immediate  choice 
is  demanded  of  you  ;  see  that  you  make  the  right  choice. 
Such  a  moment  as  this  may  be  long  in  recurring.  Pre- 
cisely such  a  moment  can  never  recur.  When  the  powers 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  are  next  brought  to  bear  on 
you,  and  you  are  next  moved  to  seize  upon  it  with 
energy,  you  will  be  another  man  ;  you  will  be  a  worse 
man,  harder  to  move  and  less  likely  to  yield,  if  you  let 


292  LOTS  WIFE. 


the  present  moment  pass  unused  :  for  "  use  doth  breed 
a  habit  in  a  man,"  and  a  habit  of  resisting  good  influences 
just  as  surely  as  any  other.  If  any  of  you,  therefore, 
are  now  moved  to  take  the  warning  and  accept  the 
invitation  of  Christ,  to  break  away  from  your  old  world 
of  evil  or  indifferent  ways  and  to  set  out  on  a  new  better 
way,  to  throw  in  your  lot  with  Him,  to  seek  Him  first 
and  his  righteousness,  do  not  let  the  auspicious  moment 
slip,  do  not  suffer  the  opportunity  to  be  lost ;  commit 
yourselves  to  Him,  and  accept  the  life  He  offers  you. 

2.  Finally  :  as  our  unspoken  prayers  are  often  our 
most  sincere  and  fervent  prayers,  and  in  some  cases  our 
only  prayers,  "  remember  Lot's  wife  ; "  remember  that 
these  prayers  are  always  answered.  It  may  seem  a  light 
thing  to  frame  wishes  which  are  never  formulated  into 
supplications  ;  but  it  is  not  a  light  thing.  It  is  by  these 
wishes,  these  strong  ruling  desires,  that  character  is 
formed,  that  doom  is  shaped.  When  Lot's  wife  "  looked 
back"  she  little  thought,  I  suspect,  that  the  stedfast 
regard,  the  fervent  desire,  of  her  look  had  all  the  force 
of  a  prayer.  Yet  we  can  see  how  the  desire  grew  out 
of  her  past  life,  that  it  was  a  virtual  prayer,  and  how 
completely  and  miserably  it  was  granted.  And  it  is 
with  us  as  it  was  with  her.  Every  wish  we  cherish — 
I  do  not  say  all  the  wishes  that  pass  through  our  minds, 
but  all  to  which  we  give  a  home  in  the  mind — leave 
delicate  but  deep  and  ineradicable  traces  on  us.     They 


LOT'S  WIFE.  293 


inspire  our  actions.  They  form,  or  help  to  form,  our 
habits.  They  modify  and  control  all  our  after  wishes 
and  desires.  And  thus  they  give  shape  and  colour  to 
our  whole  life,  and  to  our  ultimate  fate.  The  question 
is  not  whether  we  shall  or  shall  not  pray — every  man  is 
always  praying :  but  what  our  prayers  shall  be  like  ? 
The  question  is  not  whether  God  will  answer  our  prayers 
— prayers  are  always  answered  :  but  how  any  man  dare 
pray  lest  the  answer  should  come  and  find  him  unpre- 
pared for  it ! 

"  Men  ought  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint "  !  Men 
are  always  praying ;  it  is  the  fainting,  the  failing,  against 
which  we  have  to  be  on  our  guard — failing  to  ask  for 
the  right  thing,  the  best  thing,  or  failing  to  ask  with  the 
due  earnestness  and  importunity.  As  we  "  remember 
Lot's  wife,"  we  learn  from  her,  not  that  we  ought  to 
pray,  but  that  we  should  take  heed  how  we  pray,  that 
we  should  be  ".  very  careful  what  we  ask  for  ;  "  that  we 
must  seek,  as  well  as  ask,  if  we  are  to  find  ;  that  we 
must  knock  with  an  importunity  which  will  not  be 
silenced  or  denied,  if  the  gate  of  the  heavenly  treasure- 
house  is  to  be  opened  unto  us. 


XXI. 

THE   QUICKENING   OF  THE  SOUL. 

"  Whosoever  shall  seek  to  gain  his  life  shall  lose  it ;  but  who- 
soever shall  lose  shall  preserve  it." — Luke  xvii.  2^. 

An  ingenious  Rabbi  suggests  that  Lot's  wife  was  turned 
into  a  pillar,  or  heap,  of  saU  because  she  had  sinned 
through  salt.  For  on  the  night  before  she  was  destroyed, 
when  the  angels,  disguised  as  men,  came  to  tarry  in  her 
house,  "  she  went  out  to  the  neighbours,  and  said.  Give 
me  salt,  for  we  have  guests."  But  this  she  said,  not 
because  she  lacked  salt,  but  because  she  wanted  to  let 
the  men  of  Sodom  know  that  she  had  guests,  and  to 
deliver  them  into  the  lawless  hands  of  those  wicked  men. 
We  have  no  need,  however,  as  we  saw  last  Sunday, 
and  therefore  we  have  no  right,  to  think  so  ill  of  her 
as  that.  Holy  Scripture  does  not  charge  her  with  any 
participation  in,  or  any  sympathy  with,  the  sins  of 
Sodom.  Its  sole  charge  is  that,  when  fleeing  to  Zoar, 
she  looked  back  on  the  doomed  city,  although  she  had 
been  warned  not  to  look  behind  her ;  and  looked  back 
with  eyes  so  full  of  longing  and  desire  that  her  look 
amounted  to  an  unspoken  but  fervent  prayer.     She  may 


THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL.  295 

have  had  many  quite  innocent  motives  for  her  guilty 
action,  the  action  which  cost  her  her  life.  Her  look 
may  have  been  prompted  by  curiosity  and  fear  ;  for 
who,  in  her  place,  would  not  have  looked  back  on  a 
spectacle  so  strange  and  grand  and  terrible  as  the  vol- 
canic outburst  by  which  the  Cities  of  the  Plain  were 
destroyed  ?  The  prayer  in  her  look  may  have  been 
prompted  by  the  anguish  of  a  mother's  love  ;  for  some 
of  her  children  had  remained  in  the  city  she  had  left, 
and  were  sharing  its  doom :  and  who  that  has  felt, 
or  known,  a  mother's  tender  clinging  love  will  over- 
much blame  her  for  yielding  to  an  instinct  so  keen  and 
strong,  at  whatever  risk  ? 

While  we  can  find  such  innocent  and  natural  motives 
for  her  backward  look,  we  need  not  hunt  for  sinister 
motives.  Nor  need  we  assume  that  because,  while  she 
stood  and  looked,  she  was  suffocated  by  the  bitter  smoke 
of  the  burning  cities,  she  was  condemned  by  God  as 
a  sinner  above  other  women.  Neither  fire  nor  smoke 
nor  any  other  natural  force,  has  the  slightest  respect  fop 
our  motives.  If  we  come  within  their  range,  they  strike 
us  down,  however  innocent  or  laudable  the  motives  may 
have  been  which  put  us  in  their  power.  Lot's  wife, 
looking  back  on  the  terrible  fate  of  her  children,  and 
wishing  that  she  had  shared  their  fate,  or  that  she  could 
have  averted  it  by  suffering  for  them,  was  not,  neces- 
sarily, one  whit  more  guilty  than  many  a  mother  who 


296  THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL. 

has  found  it  hard  to  give  her  dying  child  to  God,  hard 
even  to  pardon  God  for  having  taken  her  child  from 
her  ;  or  than  David  when  he  cried,  "  O  Absalom,  my 
son  !  Would  God  that  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom, 
my  son,  my  son  !  " 

Nor  does  the  innocence,  or  comparative  innocence, 
of  her  motives  at  all  detract  from  the  force  of  our  Lord's 
warning,  "  Remember  Lot's  wife."  It,  rather,  adds  to 
its  force.  For,  in  that  case,  it  reminds  us  that,  however 
natural  may  be  the  motives  which  hold  us  back  from 
responding  to  his  call,  when  He  summons  us  to  an 
instant  decision  for  Him,  our  holding  back  may  be  just 
as  fatal,  or  just  as  injurious  to  us,  as  if  our  motives  had 
been  unnatural  and  vile.  He  had  just  warned  his  dis- 
ciples that  a  time,  was  at  hand  when  they  would  long 
for  such  days  as  they  had  often  spent  with  the  Son 
of  Man  while  He  was  on  the  earth.  Such  days^  He 
seems  to  imply,  would  never  recur,  let  them  long  as  they 
would  ;  but  moments  of  revelation,  moments  therefore 
of  decision,  might  still  come  to  them ;  moments  in  which 
they  would  grow  conscious  of  his  presence  and  hear  his 
voice.  And  the  question  in  his  mind  was  whether  they 
would  be  ready  for  Him,  whether  men  would  be  ready 
for  Him,  when  He  came,  whether  they  would  listen  and 
respond.  They  might  be  eating  and  drinking,  buying 
and  selling,  building  and  planting,  marrying  and  giving 
in  marriage,  as  in  the  days  of  Noah  when  the  flood  came 


THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL.  297 

and  swept  them  all  away,  or  as  in  the  days  of  Lot  when 
"  it  rained  fire  and  brimstone  from  heaven  and  destroyed 
them  all." 

Not  that  there  is  anything  li'rong  in  eating  and 
drinking,  buying  and  selling,  building  and  planting, 
or  in  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage.  These  are  all 
necessary,  honest,  and  even  honourable  occupations, 
without  which  the  world  could  not  go  on.  Yes  ;  but 
if  we  arc  so  occupied  and  pre-occupied  with  them  as 
that  we  have  no  eye  for  that  which  is  higher  than  they, 
and  no  ear  save  for  the  noises  and  festivities  of  a  busy 
world  ;  if  even  the  presence  of  Christ  cannot  attract 
us,  or  his  voice  reach  our  hearts  ;  if  in  those  crowded 
and  pregnant  moments  of  decision  in  which  we  must 
choose  between  good  and  evil,  or  between  the  best 
things  and  things  of  inferior  value,  we  make  the  wrong 
choice  because  our  hearts  are  set  on  our  home  comforts 
or  our  business  interests :  if,  to  use  St.  Paul's  words, 
we  who  have  wives  cannot  be  as  though  we  had  none, 
and  those  who  weep  cannot  be  as  if  they  wept  not,  and 
those  who  rejoice  as  though  they  rejoiced  not,  and  those 
that  buy  as  though  they  possessed  not,  and  those  who 
use  this  world  as  not  using  it  to  the  full, — why,  then, 
all  these  necessary,  innocent,  or  laudable  occupations 
become  dangerous  to  our  true  life,  if  not  fatal  to  it ;  and 
we  lose  our  life  by  the  very  means  by  which  we  seek 
to  preserve  it 


THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL. 


Whereas  if  we  use  the  world  without  being  absorbed 
in  it ;  if  we  not  only  buy  and  sell,  for  instance,  but  buy 
and  sell  with  an  integrity  and  a  consideration  for  the 
interests  of  others  which  convert  our  buying  and  selling 
into  an  ethical  discipline  ;  if,  moreover,  we  refuse  to 
devote  all  our  time  and  energy  to  mere  buying  and 
selling  in  order  that  we  may  leave  force  and  leisure  for 
self-culture,  for  study,  for  worship,  for  teaching  and 
serving  our  neighbours, — why,  then,  no  doubt,  we  may 
miss  some  chances  of  enlarging  our  dealings  and  making 
gain,  but  in  thus  losing  our  life  we  shall  preserve  and 
increase  it :  it  is  only  the  lower  and  more  fugitive  part 
of  our  life  that  will  suffer  loss ;  the  nobler  and  more 
enduring  part  will  make  great  gain.  Above  all,  when 
Christ  comes  to  us  in  those  moments  of  decision  in 
which  we  have  to  make  a  choice  between  good  and  evil, 
or  between  the  best  things  and  things  of  inferior  worth, 
we  shall  be  in  little  danger  of  making  a  wrong  choice. 
For  we  shall  have  practised  ourselves  in  preferring 
spiritual  things  to  carnal,  good  things  to  evil,  the  best 
things  to  less  good  ;  we  shall  have  taken  our  ply  and 
formed  a  habit  of  sacrificing  the  lower  to  the  higher ; 
and  it  is  Jiabit  by  which  most  of  all  our  choice  is  deter- 
mined in  those  quick  moments  of  decision  in  which  there 
is  no  leisure  for  deliberation  and  debate. 

The  peril  of  indecision,  and  the  power  of  habitual  and 
strong  desire  in  determining  our  choice  in  moments  in 


THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL.  299 

which  decision  is  imperative — this  was  the  moral  which 
I  drew  last  Sunday  from  the  warning,  "  Remember  Lot's 
wife."  And  in  the  main,  as  I  have  now  tried  to  shew 
you,  it  is  our  Lord's  own  moral.  Virtually  He  says, 
"  Remember  Lot's  wife,"  for  "  whosoever  shall  seek  to 
gain  his  life  (or  "  soul ")  shall  lose  it  ;  but  whosoever 
shall  lose  shall  preserve  it."  That  is  to  say,  In  those 
critical  moments  in  which  Christ  comes  to  us  with 
power,  flashing  into  our  souls  as  the  lightning  flashes 
through  the  sky  (Verse  24),  if  we  hesitate,  if  we  have 
cherished  desires  adverse  to  his  claims  upon  us  ;  if  we 
have  so  riveted  the  affections  of  the  soul  on  some  lower 
form  of  good  than  that  which  He  offers  us  that,  without 
it,  our  life  hardly  seems  worth  having,  we  are  only  too 
likely  to  make  a  wrong  choice,  and  to  lose  our  life  in 
the  attempt  to  save  it,  or  to  save  what  we  deem 
essential  to  it.  While,  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  have 
formed  the  habit  of  so  valuing  that  which  is  best  and 
noblest,  all  for  which  "Christ"  stands  to  us  and  repre- 
sents, that  we  willingly  quit  all  else  to  be  true  to  Him, 
no  critical  conjuncture  will  find  us  unprepared  ;  we  shall 
instinctively  make  the  right  choice,  since  to  be  found 
in  Him,  and  with  Him,  and  for  Him,  has  become  our 
supreme  aim  and  desire. 

Even  the  paradoxical  form  in  which  our  Lord  casts 
this  truth  has  become  familiar  to  us  ;  for  I  have  often 
spoken  to  you  of  other  forms  of  a  paradox  which  seems 


300  THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL. 

to  have  embodied  one  of  his  standing  thoughts,  since 
it  falls  again  and  again  from  his  h"ps.  When  we  con- 
sidered his  "  Gospel  to  the  Greeks,"  and  heard  Him 
say,  "  He  that  loveth  his  life  (or  soul)  loseth  it ;  and 
he  that  hateth  his  life  (or  soul)  in  this  world  shall  keep 
it  unto  life  eternal,"  I  tried  to  shew  you  that  "just  as 
the  man  who  is  always  thinking  of  his  health  is  likely 
to  lose  it,  and  to  sink  into  a  confirmed  hypochondriac  or 
invalid,  so  the  man  who  is  always  studying  how  he  may 
save  his  life  (or  soul)  is  only  too  likely  to  lose  his  life, 
or  all  the  sweet  uses  of  his  life ; "  and  so  too  the  man 
whose  main  thought  and  selfish  preoccupation  is  simply 
how  he  may  save  his  own  soul  is  only  too  likely  to  lose 
it,  or  to  find  it  degenerating  till  it  is  hardly  worth 
saving.!  When,  again,  we  studied  our  Lord's  promise 
to  his  disciples,  "  By  your  constancy  ye  shall  gain  (or 
acquire)  your  souls,"  I  tried  to  shew  you  how  every  man 
has  to  gain  possession  of  his  spiritual  faculties  just  as  he 
has  to  acquire  possession  of  his  mental  faculties,  and 
learn  how  to  use  them  ;  that  every  man  must  acquire 
his  own  soul,  learn  what  it  is  capable  of,  and  train  it  to 
its  highest  use  by  a  stedfast  pursuit  of  that  aim,  and  by 
fidelity  to  it  at  any  cost  or  sacrifice.^ 

My  text  is  only  a  new  variation  of  this  familiar  theme. 
And  I  do  not  know  that  it  would  have  been  worth  our 
while  to  revert  to  the  theme  in  this  new  form  of  it,  if 

■  Expositions,  Vol.  II.  Discourse  xix.        ""  Ibid.,  Discourse  xi. 


THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL.  301 

it  did  not  present  us  with  a  new  image,  or  suggestion, 
which  will  repay  any  study  we  may  expend  upon  it. 
For  when  our  Lord  says,  "  Whosoever  shall  seek  to  gain 
his  life  (or  "  soul ")  shall  lose  (or  destroy)  it,  but  who- 
soever shall  lose  shall  preserve  it,"  the  verb  rendered 
"preserve"  means  much  more  than  merely  "keep"  or 
"save."  It  means,  as  you  may  see  from  the  margin  of 
our  Revised  Version,  "  save  it  alive"  or,  still  more  literally, 
shall  ''give  birth  to  it  alive:"  i.e,  he  shall  quicken  it, 
shall  give  new  and  more  and  higher  life  to  it.  It  is  t/ie 
quickening  of  the  soul,  the  adding  to  the  volume  and 
power  of  its  life,  that  our  Lord  had  in  mind.^  And 
this  is  a  thought  worthy  of  all  meditation,  since  it  allies 
itself  in  the  most  intimate  way  with  our  daily  conduct 
and  experience. 

What,  then,  are  those  critical  moments  in  which 
choice  is  imperative  on  us  ?  They  are,  as  we  have 
agreed,^'  moments  of  strong  temptation,  or  moments  of 
great  exaltation. 

'  In  all  the  passages  to  which  I  have  just  referred  (Matthew  xvi. 
25  ;  Luke  xvii.  ;ii  ;  xxi.  19  ;  John  xii.  25),  as  in  many  others,  our 
translators,  both  of  the  Authorized  and  the  Revised  Versions, 
render  one  and  the  same  Greek  word  (>/'1',y»))  now  by  "life"  and 
now  by  "soul"  as,  in  their  judgment,  best  suits  the  context.  This 
departure  from  their  usual  rule  will  not  perplex  any  thoughtful 
reader  if  only  he  remember  that,  in  the  mind  of  Jesus,  the  only 
true  and  proper  life  of  man  is  the  life  of  the  soul,  and  that  it  is 
of  this  that  He  is  speaking  throughout. 
See  last  Discourse. 


302  THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL. 

(i)  Every  man,  as  St.  James  reminds  us,  has  his  own 
lust,  passion,  craving.  And  "  every  man  is  tempted 
when  he  is  drawn  aside  by  his  own  lust,  and  enticed." 
Suppose  that  such  a  moment  has  come  to  you.  Your 
special  lust,  the  passionate  desire  or  craving  to  which 
you  are  most  prone,  has  drawn  you  into  some  spot,  just 
off  the  path  of  duty,  where  you  meet  an  opportunity 
of  indulging  it.  Nobody  will  know ;  nobody  will  be 
the  worse  for  what  you  say  or  do — or  so  you  persuade 
yourself.  By  a  momentary  deviation  from  the  course 
of  integrity  or  of  purity,  you  may  make  much  gain  or 
get  a  great  pleasure.  And  your  choice  must  be  prompt, 
immediate,  or  the  opportunity  will  be  gone.  For  the 
moment,  and  under  the  pressure  of  your  passionate 
craving,  you  may  feel  as  though  your  very  life  depends 
on  your  allowing  yourself  the  indulgence  you  so  keenly 
crave,  that  nothing  else  is  worth  a  thought,  that  if  you 
cannot  have  this  life  is  not  worth  living.  You  yield. 
You  suffer  your  lust  to  bring  forth  sin.  And  when  the 
deed  is  done,  and  the  flush  of  excitement  is  past,  do  you 
fail  to  find  that  sin,  when  it  is  mature,  bringeth  forth 
death  ?  If  nobody  else  is  the  worse,  are  not  you  worse  } 
Are  you  not  conscious  that  the  whole  tone  of  your  life 
is  lowered,  its  volume  lessened,  its  current  polluted  } 
Are  you  not  aware  that  you  are  less  sensitive  to  all 
pure  and  high  spiritual  influences,  more  at  the  mercy  of 
the  cravings  and  appetites  which  you  have  indulged,  less 


THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL.  303 

able  to  resist  the  next  temptation  ?  What  have  you 
done?  You  have  wronged,  injured,  impoverished  your 
own  soul.  What  otlier  proof,  then,  do  you  need  that,  in 
seeking  to  gain  your  life,  you  have  lost  it — lost  hold 
and  command  of  it,  lessened  its  force,  lowered  its  level  ? 

On  the  other  hand,  if  you  resist  the  temptation  and 
overcome  it ;  if,  because  you  have  formed  a  habit  of 
listening  to  the  voice  of  conscience  rather  than  to  that 
of  passion  or  desire,  you  are  able  to  stand  in  your  quick 
moment  of  trial,  are  you  not  conscious,  when  the  moment 
and  the  pain  of  the  moment  have  passed,  that  your  life 
has  gained  new  force  and  vigour?  If,  because  you  recog- 
nize your  frailty,  your  heart  is  full  of  humble  gratitude 
to  the  God  who  has  enabled  you  to  stand,  and  you  go 
on  your  way  with  songs  of  praise,  do  you  not  feel  that 
you  have  acquired  a  new  and  warmer  love  of  all  that  is 
good,  that  the  best  things  have  grown  dearer  to  you, 
and  more  desirable,  and  more  within  your  reach  ?  that 
the  volume  of  your  life  has  been  enlarged,  its  tone 
raised  ?  What  further  proof  do  you  require,  then,  that, 
in  losing,  you  have  quickened  your  life,  your  true  life, 
the  life  of  the  soul  ? 

(2)  Turn  our  theme  round  ;  look  at  its  other  side. 
Moments  of  unusual  exaltation  are  as  critical  and  de- 
cisive as  moments  of  strong  temptation.  When  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  has  been  brought  home  to  you — 
or,  indeed,  when  any  great  truth,  or  unselfish  impulse, 


304  THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL. 

or  generous  aspiration  has  been  so  brought  home  to  you 
that  your  spirit  within  you  has  been  deeply  moved  ; 
when  the  spiritual  alternative  has  been  impressively 
placed  before  you,  and  you  have  felt  that  you  must 
choose  between  the  law  of  Christ  and  the  law  of  the 
world, — if  you  have  made  the  wrong  choice,  have  you 
not  known  that  it  was  the  wrong  choice?  If,  because 
you  could  not  discard  your  selfish  and  worldly  aims  and 
fling  your  whole  heart  into  the  service  of  God  and  his 
Christ,  you  have  let  this  happy  chance  slip  by  ;  if,  z>., 
you  have  declined  to  make  the  love  and  pursuit  of 
truth  and  righteousness  and  charity  your  ruling  aim,  but 
have,  although  so  deeply  moved,  continued  to  put  ease, 
comfort,  success  first ;  if  you  have  thus  reversed  the  true 
order  of  things,  subordinated  that  which  is  spiritual  to 
that  which  is  sensuous,  and  that  which  is  eternal  to  that 
which  is  temporal,  have  you  not  presently  found  that 
your  life  was  the  poorer  and  the  weaker  for  your 
decision  ?  that  it  had  declined  to  a  lower  level,  a  nar- 
rower range,  and  drew  you  down  more  and  more  toward 
the  plane  at  which  truth  itself  may  seem  to  be  a  liar, 
and  all  goodness  of  doubtful  worth  or  too  high  to  be 
attained?  If  so,  you  know  what  it  is  to  lose  your  life 
while  seeking  to  gain  it ;  for  there  is  a  sense  in  which  a 
man's  life  does  consist  in  that  which  he  desires  and  to 
which  he  cleaves. 

On  the  contrary,  if  you  have  seized  upon  and  redeemed 


THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL.  305 


the  opportunity  ;  if  you  have  yielded  to  the  gracious 
influences  of  the  moment  and  to  the  inward  voices 
which  urged  you  to  respond  to  it ;  if  you  have  dedicated 
yourself  afresh  to  the  service  of  God,  and  have  been  able 
to  count  the  world  well  lost  that  you  might  win  Christ 
and  be  found  in  Him  :  if,  in  a  word,  you  have  preferred 
spiritual  things  to  carnal  and  eternal  to  temporal  things, 
and  have  thus  maintained  the  true  order  of  the  soul, — 
has  not  your  soul  been  quickened  within  you  ?  has  not 
your  choice  given  it  new  life,  swelling  its  volume,  aug- 
menting its  vigour,  elevating  its  tone  ?•  Resting  on  the 
housetop,  or  working  in  the  field,  you  have  heard  the 
voice  of  Christ ;  and,  not  conferring  with*flesh  and  blood, 
your  whole  nature  has  instantly  responded  to  his  call,  so 
that  you  have  not  gone  down  into  the  house  or  back 
from  the  field  to  fetch  away  some  lesser  and  inferior 
good,  but  have  wholly  committed  yourself  unto  Him: 
and  your  soul  has  grown  strong  and  pure  and  glad 
within  you. 

Is  not  our  paradox  true,  then  ?  Have  you  not  found 
it  true  that  whosoever,  in  these  critical  moments  of 
decision,  seeks  to  gain  his  life  loses  it,  but  whosoever  is 
willing  to  lose  it  quickens  it  into  life  eternal  ? 

Christ  came  to  Peter  at  the  moment  in  which  Peter 
fell,  Peter  had  tJicn  to  make  an  instant  choice,  to 
decide  whether  he  would  own  Christ  or  disown  Him. 
And  he  made  the  wrong  choice.     Seeking  to  save  his 


3o6  THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL. 

life,  he  lost  it,  and  went  out  to  weep  bitterly  for  the  life, 
or  even  for  the  soul,  he  had  lost,  yet  was  to  find  again. 
You  remember,  every  one  remembers,  the  story  of  his 
temptation  and  his  fall.  But  have  you  observed,  do  you 
remember,  that,  in  the  temptation  before  which  he  fell, 
there  was  another,  a  more  subtle  and  strong  temptation  ; 
and  that  into  this  lower  deep  he  did  not  fall  ?  When  he 
had  denied  his  Master,  his  temptation  was  to  lose  all 
faith  in  the  Master  he  had  denied,  and  all  hope  for  him- 
self ;  to  assume  that  his  Master  could  never  forgive  him, 
much  less  recover  him  from  the  depth  to  which  he  had 
fallen.  But,  with  him  at  least,  denial  was  not  allowed 
to  sink  into  despair.  "  I  have  prayed  for  thee,"  said 
Christ,  '' tJiat  tliy  faith  fail  not ;  and  when  thou  art 
converted,  strengthen  thy  brethren."  The  prayer  was 
answered.  Much  as  his  heart  misgave  him,  Peter's  faith 
in  Christ,  in  the  pity  and  grace  of  Christ,  did  not  fail. 
If  by  yielding  to  his  first  temptation,  he  impoverished 
his  life,  by  resisting  the  second  and  greater  temptation 
he  quickened  and  enriched  his  life,  his  soul  gathered 
such  strength  that  he  was  able  to  strengthen  and  con- 
firm the  wavering  faith  of  his  brethren. 

And  so  we  are  led  to  the  practical  lesson  and  conclu- 
sion at  which  I  have  been  aiming.  I  spoke  to  you,  in 
my  last  Discourse,  of  the  infinite  value  of  these  critical 
moments  of  decision,  and  urged  you  not  to  suffer  one 
of  them  to  pass  unused.      But  now  I  supplement  that 


THE  QUICKENING  OF  THE  SOUL.  307 

warning  by  reminding  you  that,  even  if  you  /^rzt-^  suffered 
such  moments  to  pass  unused,  you  must  not  lose  faith, 
you  need  not  despair.  Peter  fell  before  one  temptation, 
and  yet  did  not  fall  before  the  next  and  stronger  temp- 
tation. Thomas  missed  one  happy  chance,  the  chance 
of  shewing  that  he  could  believe  even  where  he  could 
not  see  ;  but  he  had  many  such  chances  afterward,  and 
did  not  miss  thorn.  And  if  any  of  }-ou  are  sorrowfully 
conscious  that  you  have  not  been  true  to  that  better  life 
of  which  Christ  is  tlie  pattern  and  the  source,  if  you 
know  and  lament  that  you  have  often  suffered  the  world 
and  the  flesh  to  be  too  much  with  you  and  too  much  for 
you,  and  that  you  have  thus  weakened  and  impoverished 
your  life  ;  or  if  you  feel  that  you  have  often  been  deeply 
moved  by  the  power  of  his  truth  or  the  appeal  of  his 
grace,  and  yet  have  not  quickened  and  released  new 
powers  of  life  within  }-our  souls  by  an  instant  and 
whole-hearted  response  to  his  claim  and  call,  still  do  not 
despair.  Christ  comes  to  you  once  more  to-day  ;  once 
more  He  asks  you  to  seek  first  his  kingdom  and 
righteousness,  to  make  life  in  Him  your  ruling  and 
supreme  aim  ;  and  many  as  are  the  opportunities  you 
liave  missed,  and  much  as  )-ou  may  have  impoverished 
}'our  life  by  missing  them,  yet  if  you  now  respond,  if 
you  commit  yourselves  to  Him,  if  you  seize  and  use  the 
new  chance  He  offers  you,  all  will  yet  be  well  with  you  ; 
and  }-ou  may  )-et  find  your  life  quickened  into  life  eternal. 


XXII. 
DIVINE    GUESTS. 

"Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him  :  If  a  man  love  me,  he  will 
keep  my  word  ;  and  my  Father  will  love  him,  and  we  will  come 
unto  him,  and  make  our  abode  with  him." — John  xiv.  23. 

It  is  St.  John  who  reports  most  of  the  Convei'sations  in 
which  our  Lord  took  part.  But  for  him,  indeed,  we 
should  hardly  have  known  how  great,  as  a  talker,  Jesus 
was,  how  He  elicited  the  best  thoughts  and  deepest 
aspirations  of  the  men  and  women  with  whom  He 
conversed  ;  and  then  met  their  thought  and  satisfied 
their  aspirations.  He  did  not  reserve  Himself  for  great 
occasions  and  a  large  audience.  Many  of  his  finest  and 
noblest  sayings  were  uttered  in  the  ears  of  few,  or  even 
of  one  ;  as,  for  instance,  when  He  talked  with  Nico- 
dcmus,  or  with  the  woman  of  Samaria,  or,  as  here,  when 
He  talked  privately  with  the  Twelve.  If  the  audience 
were  but  "  fit,"  it  mattered  nothing  to  Him  how  "  few  " 
it  was. 

We  are  apt  to  think  and  speak  of  this  Chapter  as 
part  of  the  great  "discourse"  of  Christ  after  He  had 


DIVINE  GUESTS.  309 

instituted  the  Supper,  in  which  we  still  commemorate 
his  crowning  act  of  love.  But  it  is  a  conversation, 
rather  than  a  discourse.  Thomas,  and  Philip,  and  Judas 
— the  true  Judas,  not  the  false — all  take  part  in  it  as 
well  as  Jesus  ;  and  it  is  in  answer  to  the  question  of 
Judas  that  He  utters  the  great  and  gracious  saying  of 
my  text. 

He  had  been  telling  the  Twelve  that,  though  the 
world  would  no  longer  see  Him,  they  should  see  Him  ; 
that  He  will  still  manifest  Himself  to  ihem,  though  He 
can  no  longer  manifest  Himself  to  the  world  at  large. 
And  Judas  is  perplexed  ;  he  cannot  make  out  how  this 
new  method  of  manifestation  is  possible,  or  what  has 
happened  to  necessitate  the  change.  Jesus,  as  He  Him- 
self affirmed  before  the  High  Priest  (John  xviii,  20),  had 
ev_er  "  spoken  openly  to  the  world,  in  synagogues  and  in 
the  temple,  where  all  the  Jews  come  together;"  in  secret 
He  had  spoken  nothing.  Was  He,  and  why  was  He, 
about  to  change  his  method  ?  "  Lord,"  asks  the  wonder- 
ing disciple,  "  what  has  come  to  pass  that  thou  wilt 
manifest  thyself  unto  us,  and  not  unto  the  world?" 
Even  yet  the  Disciples  had  not  realized  that  He  was 
about  to  leave  them — to  leave  the  world  which  had 
been  so  inhospitable  to  Him,  to  ascend  up  on  high,  and 
thence  to  shew  Himself  only  in  and  through  hearts  pre- 
pared to  receive  Him  by  love  and  obedience.  And  so 
He  has  to  explain  to  them  once  more  that  He  is  going 


3IO  DIVINE  GUESTS. 


to  the  Father ;  that  He  is  about  to  leave  a  world  which 
hated  Him  ;  and  to  manifest  Himself  in  future  only  to 
those  who  loved  Him  and  kept  his  word,  that  they 
might  carry  Him  and  his  word  out  into  all  the  world.  But 
to  tJiem,  to  as  many  as  love  and  obey  Him,  He  promises 
not  only  his  own  presence,  his  own  love,  but  also  the 
presence  and  love  of  his  Father :  we  will  come  to  them, 
and  not  only  come,  but  make  our  abode  with  them. 

If  we  have  any  love  for  Christ,  then,  the  promise  is  to 
us,  and  to  our  children.  And  as  we  listen  to  it,  and 
enter  into  its  gracious  significance,  our  first  emotion  is 
one  of  unutterable  thankfulness  and  joy.  We  say  : 
"  What  a  gracious,  what  a  delightful,  promise !  It 
guarantees  all  that  we  can  ask  or  desire."  And,  per- 
haps, it  is  ;  perhaps,  it  does. 

"  Perhaps!"  you  exclaim.  "  If  you  love  us,  and  love 
the  Word  you  preach,  how  can  you  take  that  cold, 
hesitating  tone  ?  What  could  be  more  delightful  than 
to  have  our  Father  and  our  Saviour  always  with  us  ? " 

And  I  can  only  plead,  in  reply,  that  I  have  found 
many  things  which  sounded  very  delightful  to  the  ear 
of  hope,  not  wholly  delightful  when  they  became  facts 
in  our  spiritual  experience.  Most  Christian  persons, 
for  example,  assume  that  they  want  to  go,  that  it  will 
be  delightful  to  go,  to  heaven.  And  yet  how  grave  they 
look  if  the  doctor  hints  that  there  is  any  chance  of  their 
going   there  soon  !  how   they  weep  and  lament  when 


DIVINE  G  UES  TS.  311 

their  friends  arc  actually  taken  where  it  is  so  delightful 
to  go  ! 

Hence  when  I  hear  any  of  them  greeting  such  a 
promise  as  this  with  rapture,  or  speaking  of  it  as  so 
comfortable,  so  delightful,  I  do  not  admit  that  I  shew 
any  want  of  love  for  them,  or  for  the  Word  I  preach,  if, 
before  I  rejoice  in  their  joy,  I  pause  to  consider,  and  ask 
them  to  consider,  whether  they  are  quite  prepared  to 
receive  as  their  guests  and  inmates  the  Father  almighty 
and  the  Son  of  his  love ;  whether  they  have  fully  counted 
the  cost  of  offering  hospitality  to  these  Divine  Guests. 

It  is  a  great  promise  ;  but  are  we  great  enough  to 
receive  it,  and  to  welcome  its  fulfilment?  Is  there 
nothing  questionable  in  our  habits,  or  even  in  our  ruling 
tone  and  bent — no  baseness,  no  frivolity,  no  worldliness, 
no  selfishness,  no  inner  vileness — which  might  well 
make  us  shrink  from  a  Presence  so  pure  and  august  ? 
Are  we  really  prepared,  do  we  really  want,  to  have  God 
with  us,  in  the  home  and  in  the  world,  in  our  business 
and  our  amusements,  that  He  may  see  all  we  do,  hear 
all  we  say  ;  and  that,  in  all,  we  may  look  up  into  his 
face  for  guidance,  for  sympathy,  for  approval  ? 

To  have  the  eternal  Father  and  the  ever-living  Re- 
deemer of  our  souls  with  us,  and  within  us,  as  we  pass 
across  the  shifting  sands  of  Time — with  no  home  and 
no  rest  unless  we  can  find  our  rest  and  home  in  ///<•///— 
is  in  very  deed  the  only  adequate  source  of  strength  and 


312  DIVINE  GUESTS. 

joy.  But,  if  they  come  to  us,  they  come  to  take  the 
first  place  in  our  hearts,  not  the  second,  much  less  the 
last :  if  they  come,  they  come  to  make  the  heart  in 
which  they  find  a  home  a  temple,  into  which  nothing 
sordid  or  selfish  or  unclean  may  enter;  come,"  therefore, 
to  slay  all  our  sins  and  sinful  affections  and  desires  ; 
come,  even,  to  take  away  all  comforts,  all  successes,  all 
habits,  all  joys  that  are  transient,  imperfect,  unreal,  or 
inimical  to  our  true  and  lasting  welfare. 

Are  you  quite  prepared  for  all  that,  my  friends  ? 
And  if  you  are,  do  you  suppose  that  it  will  all  be  simply 
delightful  ?  The  end  of  it,  indeed,  will  be  delightful 
beyond  all  telling  :  but  will  there  be  no  trouble  by  the 
way  ?  That  the  infinite  God  will  deign  to  be  my  guest, 
that  He  will  reveal  Himself  to  me  as  my  Father  and  my 
Saviour  ;  that,  under  all  the  changes  and  sorrows  of 
time,  I  should  be  assured  that  He  loves  me,  and  should 
know,  amid  all  the  fluctuating  and  despairing  moods  of 
the  soul,  that  He  is  saving  me, — this  is  a  most  gracious 
promise  ;  there  is  none  like  it,  none  so  sustaining,  puri- 
fying, ennobling :  but  is  there  no  touch  of  awe  and 
mystery  and  discipline  in  it,  to  make  me  grave  as  well 
as  glad  when  I  receive  it?  thoughtful  and  resolved  when 
I  fling  myself  on  it  and  commit  myself  to  it,  rather  than 
light-hearted  and  gay  ? 

How  full  it  is  both  of  grace  and  awe  an  illustration  or 
two  may  bring  home  to  us.     There  was  once  a  woman, 


DIVINE  GUESTS.  313 

a  woman  of  Samaria,  with  whom  Jesus  lodged  for  a  few 
minutes,  accepting  her  hospitality,  if  at  least  wc  may 
dignify  a  cup  of  cold  water  with  that  name  ;  as  wc  mfty  : 
for  has  not  lie  Himself  told  us  that  even  this  poor  gift 
shall  in  nowise  fail  of  its  reward  ?  And  as  He  sat  with 
her  by  the  well,  and  drank  of  her  pitcher,  how  graciously 
He  talked  with  her,  pouring  into  her  single  ear  sayings 
so  pregnant  with  thought  and  so  sublime  as  that  they 
have  raised  the  whole  level  of  human  thought,  and  the 
world  will  never  let  them  die  :  sayings,  for  example, 
such  as  this  ;  "  God  is  Spirit ;  and  they  that  worship 
Him  must  worship  Him  in  spirit  and  in  truth,"  Did 
He  not  in  such  sayings  as  this  manifest  both  Himself 
and  his  Father  to  the  frail  sinful  woman  ?  And  yet  did 
she  find  the  process  altogether  delightful  ?  Was  it  these 
great  sayings,  was  it  this  sublime  manifestation,  which 
most  of  all  impressed  and  moved  her  ;  which  persuaded 
her  that  He  was  both  a  Prophet  and  the  Messiah  to 
whom  all  the  prophets  bore  witness  ?  By  no  means. 
What  most  of  all  impressed  her  we  learn  from  her  invi- 
tation to  the  men  of  Samaria,  "  Come,  see  a  man  who 
told  me  all  things  that  ever  I  diiV — told  me  all  things, 
though  of  herself  He  had  told  her  only  one  1  What 
touched  her  most  closely  was  his  command,  "  Go,  call 
thy  husband,  and  come  hither."  At  that  word  her  whole 
evil  and  dissolute  life  flashed  before  her  eyes,  and  her 
heart  was  wrung  with  a  saving  shame. 


314  DIVINE  GUESTS. 


Not  delight  by  any  means,  then,  but  shame  and 
remorse  for  her  manifold  sins,  as  she  saw  them  reflected 
from  his  pure  face,  was  the  first  effect  of  Christ's  coming 
to  her,  and  revealing  to  her  the  Father  who  was  to  be  wor- 
shipped neither  on  Gerizim  nor  at  Jerusalem,  but  in  the 
sanctities,  the  love  and  obedience,  of  a  pure  and  dutiful 
life.  And  yet  who  docs  not  see  that  she  could  only 
become  clean  by  making  a  clean  breast  to  Him  of  her 
sins ;  that  only  as  she  passed  through  this  cloud  of 
shame  and  sorrow,  and  penitently  acknowledged  her 
transgression  of  the  law  of  womanhood  and  the  law  of 
God,  could  she  become  a  new  creature,  with  a  clean 
heart  and  a  right  spirit  ?  Who  docs  not  see  that,  for 
her  at  least,  delight  in  the  presence  of  Christ,  in  fellow- 
ship with  the  Father  and  the  Son,  could  only  be  reached 
as  she  passed  through  a  saving  agony  of  contrition  and 
self-abasement  ? 

And  who  may  not  gather  hope  for  himself  from  a  due 
consideration  of  her  experience  ?  Sinful  as  she  was  we 
may  be,  and,  our  conditions  and  opportunities  fairly 
allowed  for,  far  more  sinful.  And  hence,  if  God  and 
the  Son  of  God  should  ,"  come  "  to  sojourn  with  us,  we 
may  at  first  be  overpowered  by  a  sense  of  our  impurity 
and  uncleanncss.  If  they  should  "abide"  with  us,  this 
sense  of  sin  and  shame  may  be  renewed  again  and  again. 
But  it  is  not  by  cloaking  and  dissembling  our  sins  before 
Almighty  God  that  we  can  be  cleansed  from  our  sins. 


DIVINE  GUESTS.  315 

It  is  only  by  being  made  to  feci  them  more  and  more 
deeply,  and  to  confess  them  with  a  more  and  more 
contrite  heart,  that  we  can  be  absolved  and  freed  from 
tliem,  and  enter  into  the  peace  of  his  forgiving  and 
redeeming  love. 

Take  another  illustration.  There  was  once  a  nation 
with  whom  God  "abode"  for  two  thousand  years, speak- 
ing to  them  and  revealing  his  will  by  his  servants  the 
prophets,  and  inviting  them  to  maintain  a  direct  and 
unbroken  communion  with  Him.  Though  they  never 
prospered  save  as  they  recognized  and  rejoiced  in  his 
Presence,  they  never  cared  much  to  have  Him  with  them, 
so  terrible  was  the  contrast  between  his  holiness  and  their 
unholiness.  And  at  last,  when  He  sent  his  Son,  full  of 
grace  and  truth,  to  tabernacle  with  them,  when,  as  we 
believe.  He  Himself  came  and  dwelt  among  them  in  the 
person  of  his  Son;  when,  i.e.,  God  came  nearer  to  them 
than  ever,  and  revealed  Himself  to  them  in  more  gracious 
and  inviting  forms,  they  rejected  Him  with  every  sign  of 
loathing  and  scorn. 

Did  He,  therefore,  reject  and  abandon  them,  and  blot 
their  names  for  ever  from  the  book  of  life  1  Nay,  but  in 
his  love  and  in  his  pity  He  died  for  them,  and  died  to 
take  away  their  sin  in  rejecting  Him — with  such  Divine 
art  did  He  betray  them  for  their  good.  They  took  their 
own  wild  wilful  way  ;  and  yet  it  proved  to  be  his  way 
after  all,  his  way  for  their  redemption  and  the  redemp- 


3i6  DIVINE  GUESTS. 

tion  of  the  world.  He  would  not  so  much  as  blame 
them,  or  have  them  blamed.  With  his  dying  breath  he 
cried,  "  Father,  forgive  them  ;  they  know  not  what  they 
do."  He  would  not  even  admit  that  it  was  they  who 
took  his  life  from  Him.  "  No  man  taketh  it  from  me,"  He 
said,  "  but  I  lay  it  down  of  myself,  and  lay  it  down  that 
I  may  take  it  up  again,  and  abide  with  them,  and  bear 
with  them,  and  win  upon  them,  till  I  have  redeemed  them 
from  their  sins,  and  have  put  my  law  into  their  minds  and 
written  it  on  their  hearts." 

And  so  all  Israel,  old  and  new,  was  saved.  Not  saved 
as  yet  indeed  ;  nor  do  we  yet  see  how  all  are  to  be  saved. 
But,  as  we  look  back,  we  see  all  along  the  line  of  those 
who  would  not  have  Him  to  reign  over  them  a  long  array 
of  elect,  i.e.,  of  loving  and  childlike,  souls,  of  clear  and 
great  spirits,  who  learned  to  delight  in  Him,  through 
whatever  pangs  of  shame  and  penitence  they  rose  to  their 
rest  in  Him.  While  the  great  bulk  of  the  people  were 
stiffening  into  a  Sadducean  scepticism  or  a  Pharisaic 
bigotry,  He  was  training  a  few  prophetic  souls  in  every 
generation  to  receive  Him,  to  carry  his  words — nay,  to 
carry  Him — in  their  hearts  ;  and  to  give  Him  to  the  true 
Israel,  the  elect  spirits  of  the  world,  to  the  open  and  re- 
ceptive spirits  of  all  who  desired  the  truth.  For,  by  other 
means,  He  had  all  along  been  training  other  men,  in 
other  lands,  for  a  faithful  reception  of  Him  and  of  his 
Word.      If  they  were  not  all    Israel  who  were  in  the 


DIVINE  GUESTS.  317 

Israelite  fold,  He  had  "other  sheep"  who  were  not  of 
that  fold,  but  were  nevertheless  of  his  flock.  And  these 
too,  as  He  said,  Mc  nfiust  bring  in.  Hence  the  elect 
Jews,  the  faithful  Remnant,  to  whom  his  word  gave  life, 
went  out  into  all  the  world  and  preached  his  gospel  to 
every  creature.  In  the  person  of  their  successors,  they 
still  carry  on  the  work  and  service  of  his  love.  And  in 
the  end,  so  we  are  assured  both  by  his  Spirit  and  by  his 
Word,  all  Israel  is  to  be  saved,  the  fulness  of  the  Gentiles 
is  to  be  brought  in,  and  there  shall  be  one  fold,  and  one 
Shepherd.  The  long  agony  of  the  ages  is  to  close  in 
the  birth  of  a  new  earth  and  a  new  heaven,  in  the  gift  of 
a  new  heart  and  a  new  spirit  to  all  the  sons  of  men. 
Christ  is  to  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul  ;  and,  having 
drawn  all  men  unto  Himself,  is  to  be  satisfied. 

This  is  the  crowning  illustration  of  the  redeeming  ways 
of  God.  And,  surely,  it  brings  home  to  us,  as  none  other 
could,  at  once  the  awfulness  and  the  grace  of  the  great 
promise  of  my  text.  What  have  not  God  and  the  Son 
of  God  had  to  endure  that  they  might  dwell  with  the 
world  !  What  pangs  of  shame  have  men  had  to  suffer, 
what  agonies  of  contrition,  what  a  discipline  of  chasten- 
ing and  rebuke,  have  they  still  to  endure  before  they 
could,  or  can,  abide  with  God  !  And  yet  is  not  the  end 
worth  it  all  ?  When  the  end  is  reached,  and  we  have 
learned  to  delight  ourselves  in  Him,  shall  we  not  forget 
the  anguish  for  joy  that  a  new  world,  a  new  race,  has 


3i8  DIVINE  GUESTS. 


been  born  ?  born  to  God,  and  to  fellowship  with  God  ; 
and  therefore  born  to  a  peace  past  all  understanding,  to 
a  joy  unspeakable  because  so  full  of  glory  ? 

But  we  need  not  wait  for  the  end.  The  promise,  great 
as  it  is,  may,  so  far  as  zve  are  concerned,  be  fulfilled  now 
and  here.  Our  Lord  is  not  speaking  wholly  or  mainly 
of  the  future  when  He  says,  "  If  a  man  love  me,  he  will 
keep  my  word  ;  and  my  Father  will  love  him,  and  we 
will  come  unto  him,  and  make  our  abode  with  him."  To 
some  of  us  Father  and  Son  Jiave  come  again  and  again  ; 
come,  at  first,  to  calm  and  curb  our  hot  passionate  spirits, 
to  control  our  rebellious  wills,  to  rebuke  our  habitual 
sins  ;  but  come  also  to  cleanse  us  from  the  stains  of 
guilt,  to  purge  us  from  the  love  of  sin,  to  redeem  us  from 
our  bondage  to  evil  habit,  to  lift  us  out  of  our  worldliness 
and  selfishness,  to  set  new  and  higher  aims  before  us,  to 
kindle  new  and  purer  affections  within  us.  We  have 
been  put  to  shame  indeed,  but  it  has  been  a  saving 
shame.  If  we  have  been  shaken  at  times  with  a  passion 
of  contrition,  we  have  also  felt  the  healing  power  of 
forgiveness.  If  we  are  still  far  from  all  perfection,  none 
the  less  we  still  cherish  the  hope  of  being  made  perfect. 
However  we  doubt  our  love  for  God,  we  do  not  doubt 
his  love  for  us,  or  are  not  suffered  to  doubt  it  for  more 
than  a  moment  ;  not  because  we  deserve  it,  any  more 
than  Israel  or  the  world  at  large  deserved  it,  but  because 
we  know  that  God  is  love,  and  that  He  cannot  deny  Him- 


DIVINE  GUESTS.  319 

self.  And  so,  though  this  promise  is  still  full  of  awe  for 
us,  it  is  also  full  of  grace.  We  find  in  it  a  sentence  of 
death  on  ail  that  is  sinful  or  imperfect  in  our  nature,  and 
we  know  that  to  i)art  with  some  of  our  sinful  habits  and 
imperfections  must  be  hard  for  us  and  full  of  pain  ;  but 
we  also  know  that  we  can  only  reach  our  proper  perfec- 
tion and  blessedness  as  wc  are  constrained  to  give  them 
up  ;  and,  for  the  joy  set  before  us,  we  are  content  to 
endure — in  our  best  moods,  we  despise— the  pain. 

Nor  is  there  any  reason,  save  one,  why  all  men  should 
not  enter  into  the  fruition  of  this  great  and  sustaining 
Promise.  It  is  made  to  "  any,"  />.,  to  every,  man.  That 
is  to  say,  it  is  made  to  an\' and  every  man  who  is  willing 
to  love  and  to  obey.  "If  any  man  love  me,  and  keep  viy 
li'onl,  .  .  .  we  will  come  to  him,  and  make  our  abode 
with  him."  This  is  the  sole  condition.  And  the  condi- 
tion is  not  artificial  or  arbitrary,  but  natural  and  in- 
evitable. For  how  can  God's  presence  be  any  blessing, 
or  at  least  any  happiness,  to  you,  if  you  do  not  love  Him, 
and  love  to  have  Him  with  you  ?  How  can  He  abide 
with  you,  if  your  will  is  opposed  to  his?  or  how,  at  least, 
can  you  take  any  pleasure  in  having  Him  with  you  ? 

lUit  if  you  really  and  honestly  desire  to  have  God 
always  with  you  ;  if  amid  all  the  changes  and  sorrows  of 
time,  and  under  all  the  fluctuating  moods  of  your  own 
heart,  you  care  to  feel  that  He  is  your  Father  and  loves 
you,  that  He  is  your  Redeemer  and  is  bent  on  saving 


320  DIVINE  GUESTS. 


you  ;  if,  in  a  word,  you  long  to  be  redeemed  from  all  care 
and  qll  fear — here  is  the  offer  of  his  grace  and  love  to 
you.  He  Himself  tells  you  that  He  is  your  Father,  and 
that  his  love  can  never  change  ;  He  Himself  assures  you 
that  He  is  your  Redeemer,  that  He  has  taken  away  your 
sin,  and  that,  in  proportion  as  you  are  prepared  to  receive 
and  welcome  Him,  He  will  come  and  abide  with  you, 
that  He  may  work  in  you  both  to  love  and  to  do  all  the 
good  pleasure  of  his  will.  You  have  but  to  open  the 
doors  of  Love  and  Duty,  and  through  these  open  doors 
the  God  of  all  grace  and  consolation  will  enter  in,  and  so 
dwell  with  you  that,  both  here  and  hereafter,  you  may 
dwell  with  Him. 


XXIII. 

THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 

"And  the  day  of  unleavened  bread  came,  on  which  the  passover 
must  be  sacrificed.  And  he  sent  Peter  and  Jchn,  saying,  Go  and 
make  ready  for  us  the  passover,  that  we  may  eat.  And  they  said 
unto  him,  Where  wilt  thou  that  we  make  ready  ?  And  he  said  unto 
them.  Behold,  when  ye  are  entered  into  the  city,  there  shall  meet 
you  a  man  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water  ;  follow  him  into  the  house 
whereinto  he  goeth.  And  ye  shall  say  unto  the  goodman  of  the 
house.  The  Master  saith  unto  Ihee,  Where  is  the  guest-chamber, 
where  I  shall  eat  the  passover  with  my  disciples  ?  And  he  will 
shew  you  a  large  upper  room  furnished  :  there  make  ready.  And 
they  went,  and  found  as  he  had  said  unto  them  ;  and  they  made 
ready  the  passover." — Luke  xxii.  7-13. 

The  incident  recorded  in  these  Verses  is  invested  with 
an  air  of  mystery  at  variance  with  the  habitual  simplicity 
and  sincerity  of  Christ.  There  are  men  of  a  habit  so  fur- 
tive and  secret  that  straightforwardness  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  them.  They  are  for  ever  "  fetching  a  compass," 
looking  one  way  and  rowing  another,  and  would  hardly 
care  to  reach  the  end  they  most  desire  unless  they  had 
secured  it  by  stratagem.  But  there  was  nothing  furtive 
or  indirect  about  Him.  He  went  straight  to  his  ends  with 
the  simple  fearlessness  of  one  who  has  no  private  end  to 
22 


322  THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 

serve,  and  who,  so  far  from  finding  gain  in  others'  loss,  is 
willing  to  lose  all  for  their  good.  And  yet  it  is  impossible 
to  deny  that  there  is  an  appearance  of  indirectness,  an 
air  of  secrecy,  in  the  way  in  which  He  indicates  to  his 
Apostles  the  goodman  at  whose  house  He  had  arranged, 
or  determined,  to  keep  the  passover.  He  knew  the 
man's  name  well  enough  ;  and  so,  in  all  probability  did 
tJiey.  For  the  man  was  one  of  his  few  disciples  in  Jeru- 
salem, as  we  learn  from  the  salutation  He  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  the  Two  who  are  to  meet  him.  They  are  to 
say  to  him,  "  TJie  Master^' — i.e.,  the  Teacher,  the  Rabbi, 
of  whom  you  wot,  whom  you  acknowledge  to  be  your 
teacher  and  master — "  bids  you  shew  us  the  room  in  which 
he  is  to  eat " — in  which  He  has  arranged  with  you  to 
eat — "  the  passover  with  his  disciples." 

Jesus  knew  the  man's  name,  then  ;  and  so  did  the 
Twelve.  For  one  of  them,  St.  Matthew  (Chap.  xxvi.  i8), 
reports  our  Lord  as  saying,  "  Go  into  the  city  to  such  a 
man  ;  "  and  the  Greek  phrase  for  "  such  an  one  "  is  that 
used  when  the  writer,  or  speaker,  knew,  but  did  not  care 
to  disclose,  the  name  of  the  person  referred  to.  Why, 
then,  does  our  Lord  make  a  mystery  of  the  goodman's 
name  ?  Why,  instead  of  telling  them  to  whose  house 
they  were  to  go,  and  mentioning  a  name  they  would 
instantly  have  recognized,  does  He  send  them  from 
Bethany  to  the  great  and  crowded  city  of  Jerusalem 
to  meet  a  man  bearing  a  pitcher,  and  to  follow  whither- 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER.  323 

soever  he  may  lead.  They  might  meet — on  this  night, 
as  we  shall  sec  by  and  bye,  they  were  sure  to  meet — 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  men — men,  not  women — 
carrying  jars  of  water  from  the  public  fountains,  or  from 
"  Siloa's  sacred  stream."  How  could  they  be  sure  that 
they  should  light  on  the  right  man,  or  sure  of  recognizing 
him  if  they  did  ?  And  why  should  they  be  sent  out 
on  an  adventure  when  it  would  have  been  so  easy,  by 
speaking  a  single  word,  to  save  them  from  all  perplexity 
and  all  risk  ? 

The  answer  to  that  question  has  commonly  been 
rendered  thus,  Jesus  was  about  to  be  taken  from  the 
disciples  who  had  hitherto  looked  to  Him  for  guidance 
and  protection.  Before  He  left  them,  He  wished  to 
comfort  them  by  giving  them  one  more  proof  of  his 
prescience  and  power ;  ,by  shewing  them  that  He  knew 
what  was  taking  place  at  a  distance,  that  He  could  fore- 
see what  would  take  place  ///  the  future  ;  that  I  le  could 
so  order  even  the  minutest  details  of  human  life  as  to' 
make  them  subserve  the  purposes  of  his  wisdom  and 
love.  He  does  not  tell  them  to  whose  house  they  are  to 
go,  nor  where  it  stood,  in  order  that  they  may  see  that, 
while  at  Bethany,  He  knows  what  is  going  on  at  Jeru- 
salem, knows  even  what  tt'///  be  going  on  an  hour  or  two 
hence  ;  what  "  the  goodman  "  will  be  doing,  w  here  they 
will  find  him,  and  that  He  can  so  time  and  arrange  their 
actions  and  his  that  they  and  he  will  be  brought  together 


324  THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 

at  the  very  moment  and  under  the  very  conditions  which 
He  had  anticipated.  And  He  took  this  strange  indirect 
course  with  them,  because  He  wanted  to  convince  them 
that  He  could  both  see  and  guide  them  when  He  should 
be  removed  from  them  ;  because  He  wanted  to  teach 
them  that  He  would  still  be  with  them  when  they  would 
think  of  Him  as  absent  and  distant,  that  He  would  still 
be  watching  over  them,  and  directing  them  in  all  their 
ways  in  that  future  to  which  they  looked  forward  with 
so  much  dread  because  He  would  no  longer  be  with 
them. 

Now  I  am  far  from  denying  that  this  is  the  true  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery,  and  indicates  the  true,  and  most 
beautiful  and  consolatory,  lesson  we  are  to  learn  from 
it.  All  I  contend  for  is,  that  it  is  not  reached  in  the 
right  way.  For  Jesus  did  not  invent  difficulties  to  shew 
how  easily  He  could  overcome  them  ;  nor  did  He  make 
the  path  of  his  disciples  dubious  and  perplexing  to  them 
even  to  teach  them  how  wise  and  good  He  was.  His 
character  and  his  method  alike  warrant  us  in  assuming 
that  there  must  have  been  some  clear,  natural,  and  suf- 
ficient reason  in  the  circumstances  in  which  He  and  they 
were  placed  that  compelled  Him  to  give  them  a  secret 
sign  instead  of  a  plain  address.  At  all  events,  what  we 
know  of  Him — of  his  simplicity,  sincerity,  straightfor- 
wardness— should  lead  us  to  look  for  some  such  reason 
in  the  conditions  of  the  hour,  and  decline  to  believe  that 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER.  325 

He  was   simply  exhibiting  his   prescience   and    power, 
without  reason  and  without  cause. 

And  if  we  set  out  on  that  search,  we  shall  not  have 
to  look  far  for  the  reason  which  induced  and  compelled 
Ilim  to  take  a  course  in  which  He  appears  unlike  Him- 
self, but  is,  indeed,  in  a  most  true  accord  with  Himself 

The  secret  is  latent  in  the  Verses  which  immediately 
precede  my  text,  and  will  become  plain  and  clear  to 
us  so  soon  as  we  reali/.e  the  incident  they  record,  and 
connect  it  with  the  incident  before  us. 

From  these  Verses,  then,  we  learn  that  the  Jewish 
Sanhedrin  feared  a  tumult  if  they  arrested  Jesus  while 
Jerusalem  was  thronged  withGalilean  and  other  strangers, 
over  whom  they  had  little  influence  and  less  power. 
Determined  to  slay  Him,  they  were  "seeking  how  they 
might  put  him  to  death  "  without  exciting  and  exas- 
perating the  people.  "  Not  during  the  feast,"  they  said, 
"  while  all  these  strangers  are  about  who  run  after  Him, 
lest  they  should  turn  upon  us  and  rend  us  ;  but  before, 
or  after."  But  in  vain  did  they  take  counsel  together. 
He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  laughed  at  them.  For 
it  was  precisely  during  the  Feast,  and  not  before  or 
after.  He  had  determined  that  our  Passover  should  be 
sacrificed  for  us.  When  Judas  offered  to  betray  the 
Nazarene  into  their  hands  secretly,  "  in  the  absence  of 
the  multitude,"  they  could  not  resist  the  temptation,  and 
thought  his  offer,  I  dare  say,  a  manifest  interposition 


326  THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 

of  Providence  on  their  behalf.  But  while  they  meant 
to  use  Judas  for  their  ends,  God  was  using  both  him 
and  them  for  his  end — to  effect,  to  carry  out,  the  counsel 
He  had  afore  determined. 

Probably  Judas,  with  the  calculating  selfishness  which 
often  accompanies  the  religious  temperament,  had  all 
along  intended  to  use  Jesus  for  his  own  ends — to  secure 
his  own  advancement,  to  gain  wealth,  power,  distinction 
in  the  kingdom  which  the  Son  of  Man  was  to  set  up. 
But  now  that  he  saw  Him  turn  from  a  kingdom  to  a 
cross,  he  resolved  at  least  to  get  back  into  the  favour 
of  the  Chief  Priests  and  the  Pharisees.  So  he  makes 
"  a  covenant  "  with  them,  just  as  Jesus  was  about  to 
make  the  new  covenant  with  his  disciples  and  to  promise 
iJieni,  in  a  higher  form,  all  that  Judas  craved.  The  one 
covenant  is  a  dark  and  sinister  shadow  of  the  other. 
And  in  this  secret  covenant  with  the  priestly  rulers  we 
have,  I  think,  the  reason  and  the  explanation  of  the 
secret  instruction  which  Jesus  gave  to  his  two  disciples. 

For  the  Lord  Jesus,  who  had  long  known  who  it  was 
that  should  betray  Him,  knew  now  that  the  traitor  was 
only  watching  for  a  secret  and  safe  opportunity  of  effect- 
ing his  purpose.  And  He  would  do  nothing  to  help 
him  ;  nay.  He  takes  thought  and  pains  to  hinder  and 
hold  him  back,  even  deviating  from  his  habit  of  open 
and  straightforward  dealing  with  his  Apostles.  He  has 
determined,  He  has  arranged,  to  eat  the  passovcr  with 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER.  327 

them  at  a  certain  house  in  Jerusalem.  The  eve  of  the 
day  on  which  the  passover  lamb  must  be  killed  in  the 
temple,  and  all  the  preparations  for  the  Feast  must  be 
completed,  has  arrived.  He  must  send  to  remind  his 
friend  in  the  City  of  the  arrangement  they  have  made, 
to  assure  him  that  He  intends  to  abide  by  it  ;  and  He 
must  also  despatch  messengers  whom  He  can  trust  to 
get  the  lamb  slain  by  the  priests  on  the  appointed  day, 
and  to  make  all  ready  for  the  last  occasion  on  which  He 
will  break  bread  and  drink  wine  with  his  disciples. 

But  why  must  the  messengers  be  men  whom  he  could 
trust'?  why  does  He  not  tell  the  whole  band  of  his  dis- 
ciples what  He  is  about  to  do  }  why  have  recourse  to  a 
sign?  Simply  because,  if  Judas  should  come  to  knoiu  of 
this  quiet  meeting  iu  a  retired  house,  he  would  feel  that  his 
opportunity  had  come,  and  proceed  to  deliver  Jesus  to  the 
priests  "  in  the  absence  of  the  multitude."  It  was  con- 
sideration for  the  traitor — it  was,  at  least  in  part,  to 
hold  him  back  from  his  enormous  but  not  "unparalleled" 
sin — that  Jesus  departed  from  his  usual  open  course,  and 
made  a  secret  of  the  place  where  He  was  to  keep  the 
feast.  Only  on  the  eve  of  the  day  on  which  the  Passover 
was  to  be  eaten  did  He  send  to  prepare  for  it  Even 
then  He  selects  for  this  confidential  office  the  two 
Apostles  who  loved  Him  most  and  on  whom  He  could 
most  rely — Peter  and  John.  And,  even  to  them,  He 
mentions  no  name,  gives  no  address.     When  they  ask, 


328  THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 

"  Where  wilt  thou  that  we  make  ready  ? "  He  does  not 
reply,  "  At  So-and-So's,  in  such  and  such  a  street."  He 
gives  them  a  sign.  When  they  enter  the  city  they  will 
meet  a  man  bearing  a  jar  of  water;  which  may  mean 
that  the  first  man  they  met  on  entering  Jerusalem,  or 
the  first  man  whom  they  knew  to  be  one  of  his  disciples, 
would  be  the  man  whom  they  were  to  follow,  and  in 
whose  house  they  are  to  make  ready.  But,  in  either 
case,  they  cannot  foresee,  though  Christ  can,  who  the 
man  is  to  be.  And  so,  even  if  Judas  should  suspect 
their  errand,  and  try  to  worm  out  from  them  where  they 
are  going,  they  cannot,  however  unconsciously,  betray 
their  Master  to  him  ;  they  cannot  tell  him  what  they 
do  not  know :  they  can  give  him  no  answer  that  would 
serve  his  turn.  In  his  love  and  in  his  pity — his  love  for 
them,  his  pity  for  Judas — to  save  them  from  a  mistake 
which  they  would  have  found  it  hard  to  forgive,  and  to 
hold  him  back  from  a  sin  which  man  has  not  forgiven 
even  yet,  though  Christ  Himself  may  have  forgiven  it 
long  ago.  He  rendered  it  impossible  for  them  to  betray 
Him  to  Judas,  and  for  Judas  to  betray  Him  to  the 
priests. 

He  was  not  exhibiting  his  power,  then,  nor  displaying 
his  more  than  human  wisdom.  He  was  using  his 
prescience  for  their  good,  and  that  He  might  finish  the 
work  which  his  Father  had  given  Him  to  do. 

And  yet,  if  He  had  not  been  able,  when  need  was, 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER.  329 

to  sec  what  was  passing  at  a  distance  and  to  project 
Himself  into  the  future,  how  could  He  have  foreknown 
where  the  goodman  would  be,  and  how  he  would  be 
occupied,  at  the  very  moment  when  John  and  Peter 
should  enter  the  city,  or  how  so  time  and  guide  their 
steps  that  they  should  fall  in  with  him,  and  not  with 
some  one  of  the  many  other  men  who,  at  that  very  hour, 
would  be  occupied  with  the  same  task  ? 

For  though,  among  the  Jews,  it  was  not  the  men,  but 
the  women,  who  commonly  went  to  draw  water  from 
the  public  fountains,  yet,  on  tJiis  night,  Jewish  custom 
ordained  that,  before  the  stars  appeared  in  the  sky, 
every  head  of  a  household  should  repair  to  a  fountain 
from  which  He  could  draw  pure  and  living  water  to 
mix  with  the  flour  from  which  the  unleavened  bread, 
eaten  at  the  feast,  was  to  be  made.  Hence,  in  the 
crowded  city  of  Jerusalem,  by  the  time  the  two  Apostles 
reached  it,  there  would  be  hundreds,  and  even  thousands, 
of  men  bearing  jars  or  pitchers  of  water  through  the 
streets  to  their  several   homes. 

Here,  then,  in  this  historical  fact,  we  may  see  how 
great  must  have  been  the  prescience,  or  the  power,  of 
Christ — that  He  could  so  time,  or  so  order,  the  steps 
both  of  the  Apostles  and  of  the  householder  in  the 
distant  City  as  that  he  and  they  should  come  together 
just  at  the  right  instant,  and  at  the  very  spot  at  which, 
unknown  to  them,  their  paths  would  intersect  each  other. 


330  THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 

We  may  also  see  why,  having  resolved  to  give  a  sign 
rather  than  a  plain  direction,  He  chose  this  sign  rather 
than  another.  It  was  not  by  accident,  by  chance,  or 
because  He  wanted  to  shew  how  wise  and  foreseeing 
He  was.  His  choice  was  guided  by  the  custom  of  the 
hour,  by  what  He  knew  the  goodman  would  be  likely 
to  be  doing  when  his  messengers  reached  the  City. 

In  saying  this,  however,  in  shewing  how  natural  and 
reasonable  it  was  that  He  should  choose  this  sign  rather 
than  any  other,  we  in  no  measure  detract  from  the 
prescience  of  Christ.  It  would  puzzle  even  a  mathe- 
matician to  calculate  how  many  chances  there  were 
against  such  a  forecast  as  this  falling  true.  According 
to  Josephus,  the  population  of  Jerusalem  at  Passover- 
time  was  to  be  counted  by  the  million.  There  are  not, 
I  suppose,  so  many  people  in  London  who  habitually 
go  to  church  on  Sunday  morning  as  there  were  in 
Jerusalem  nineteen  centuries  ago  who  punctiliously 
observed  all  the  customs  of  the  Passover  ordained  by 
Jewish  law  and  tradition.  But  if,  on  some  fine  Sunday 
morning,  you  were  sent  to  London  from  a  distance 
which  would  take  you  an  hour  to  cover,  with  no  more 
definite  direction  than  this:  "When  you  have  entered 
into  the  city  there  will  meet  you  a  man  on  his  way  to 
Church,  with  a  prayer-book,  or  a  hymn-book,  in  his 
hand  ;  follow  him,  and  he  shall  shew  you  where  you  are 
to  go,"  should  you  be  very  sanguine  of  finding  your  way 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER.  331 

to  the  right  place,  of  lighting  on  the  right  man  at  the 
first  cast  ? 

Surely,  then,  Peter  and  John  in  after-days,  when  their 
Master  was  no  longer  with  them  and  the  future  looked 
all  dark  and  threatening,  as  they  reflected  on  this  ex- 
perience of  Christ's  presence  with  the  absent,  of  his 
power  to  forecast,  if  not  to  shape,  the  future, — surely 
they  must  have  drawn  from  it  a  strong  argument  for 
trust  and  hope,  and  have  said  within  themselves,  "  He 
knows  what  is  coming  to  pass,  though  we  do  not. 
He  is  with  us,  though  we  do  not  see  Him.  He  is 
guiding  our  steps,  though  now,  as  then,  we  have  to 
walk  by  faith  and  not  by  sight."  And  surely  we,  if  we 
believe  in  Christ  as  the  Lord  and  Ruler  of  our  lives  as 
well  as  the  Saviour  of  our  souls  ;  if  we  believe  that  the 
Father  has  committed  all  "judgment" — /.^.,  all  authority 
and  rule — to  the  Son,  may  draw  from  this  incident  a 
similar  argument  for  hope  and  trust.  We  may  infer 
that  even  when  He  seems  to  be  absent  and  distant  from 
us,  and  though  we  are  in  fear  or  in  doubt  about  what 
the  morrow  may  bring  forth,  He  sees  and  foresees  all 
which  is  hidden  from  us  ;  and  that,  unconfused  and 
unembarrassed  by  the  myriad  chances  and  mischances 
of  life,  He  is  guiding  us  in  all  our  ways,  if  only  we  arc 
busy  on  his  errands  and  are  striving  to  do  his  will. 

Indeed  the  more  we  reflect  on  this  incident,  the  more 
we  shall  find  in  it  to  meet  our  wants  and  banish  our 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 


fears.  For  it  teaches  us  that,  even  when  He  seems  most 
unlike  Himself,  our  Lord  is  most  truly  Himself,  and  is 
leading  us  to  our  desired  haven,  though  by  ways  we 
know  not,  and  which  do  not  seem  likely  to  lead  us 
there.  It  teaches  us  that  his  prescience  extends  to 
the  minutest  details,  as  well  as  to  the  main  lines  and 
critical  occasions  of  life ;  that  absolutely  nothing  which 
really  concerns  us  is  overlooked  or  forgotten  by  Him, 
no,  not  even  the  pitcher,  or  the  cup,  of  cold  water 
which  we  need  to  slake  our  thirst,  or  are  carrying  to 
a  neighbour  who  needs  it  even  more  than  we  do.  It 
teaches  us  that  if  we  love  Him,  and  are  bent  on 
serving  Him,  He  will  save  us  from  those  innocent, 
because  unconscious  and  unintentional,  transgressions 
of  his  good  will  for  us  which  must  inevitably  inflict  their 
proper  punishment  upon  us,  however  guiltless  we  may 
be — ^just  as  He  saved  Peter  and  John  from  innocently 
betraying  a  secret  to  Judas  which  he  would  have  turned 
to  evil  account.  It  teaches  us  that  even  when  we  are 
already  traitors  to  Him  in  our  hearts,  when  we  are 
meditating  some  sin  which  will  cast  us  from  his  grace, 
He  will  do  all  He  can,  short  of  forcing  our  will,  to  save 
us  from  our  sin  ;  that  He  will  place  hindrances  and 
impediments  in  our  way  as  He  did  in  the  way  of 
Iscariot,  and  will  not  abandon  us  to  our  evil  heart  until, 
against  all  the  remonstrances  and  pleadings  and  warn- 
ings of  his  love,  we  overleap  all  hindrance,  and  plunge 
into  what  we  know  to  be  a  path  of  death. 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER.  333 

Time  will  not  permit  me  to  dwell  on  these  lessons,  to 
draw  them  out  and  apply  them  to  the  various  conditions, 
experiences,  and  wants  of  men.  And  what  need  is  there 
to  dwell  upon  them  when  no  sooner  do  we  hear  them 
than  they  commend  themselves  to  us  as  lessons  which 
meet  the  very  infirmities  and  fears  by  which  wc  arc 
beset  and  disturbed  ?  Every  man  who  has  set  out  on 
the  spiritual  life  at  once  recognizes  their  value,  and 
appreciates  the  comfort  they  freely  yield. 

But  there  is  one  lesson,  not  quite  so  near  the  surface, 
though  even  this  can  hardly  have  escaped  you,  on  which, 
since  it  meets  a  very  common  want,  I  must  at  least 
ask  you  to  redect  for  yourselves.  For,  finally,  this  inci- 
dent suggests  why  much  that  we  crave  to  know  is  hidden 
from  us.  How  often  in  the  conduct  of  our  h'fe,  in  its 
greatest  as  well  as  in  its  smaller  choices  and  decisions, 
do  we  look  back  on  them,  and  say,  "  O,  if  I  had  but 
known!"  or  look  forward  to  them  and  sigh,  "O,  if  I 
could  but  know  1 "  We  have  to  determine,  we  have 
even  to  act,  before  we  can  see,  or  foresee,  what  many  of 
the  consequences  of  our  determination,  or  our  action, 
will  be.  And,  afterwards,  when  the  results  of  what  we 
have  done  fill  our  hearts  with  grief  and  apprehension, 
we  say,  "  I  would  not  have  done  that  if  I  had  known  to 
what  it  would  lead.  Why  did  I  not  know  >  Why  was 
I  not  forewarned  ?  " 

And  the  answer  to  this  question  often  is  :  It  is  better 


334  THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER. 

that  you  should  not  have  foreseen  ;  better  that  you 
should  have  been  left  to  act  on  principle  than  on  a 
calculation  of  consequences ;  bettec  that  you  should 
walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight :  better  even  that  you 
should  be  allowed  to  fall  into  errors  and  mistakes,  and 
have  to  eat  their  bitter  fruit,  and  so  be  taught  the 
seriousness  and  responsibility  of  life  and  trained  for 
freedom  of  choice  and  action,  than  that  every  step 
should  be  precisely  marked  out  for  you  and  all  its 
results  be  clearly  revealed.  For  it  is  thus  that  God 
emancipates  us  from  the  leading-strings  of  infancy,  and 
trains  us  into  men,  and  strong  men,  in  Christ  Jesus. 

But,  sometimes,  the  answer  is  :  You  are  called  to 
walk  as  in  darkness,  trusting  in  a  higher  Wisdom  than 
your  own,  because  that  Wisdom  is  so  much  higher  than 
your  own  that  as  yet  you  cannot  be  trusted  with  its 
secrets  without  injury  or  peril,  because  the  very  know- 
ledge you  crave  would  be  a  temptation  to  you  and  a 
danger.  When  Christ  gave  a  secret  sign  to  the  two 
chief  Apostles,  the  Ten  may  have  asked  why  they  were 
not  permitted  to  know  the  secret  confided  to  the  Two  ; 
the  Two  may  have  asked  why  Jesus  did  not  tell  them 
what  they  were  to  do  clearly,  why  He  sent  them  out  on 
a  perplexing  and  dubious  adventure  instead  of  telling 
them  plainly  where  they  were  to  go  :  while  no  doubt 
the  traitor,  Judas,  thought  himself  hardly  used  because 
what  he  so  much  wanted   to  know  was  carefully  con- 


THE  MAN  WITH  A  PITCHER.  335 

ccalcd  from  him.  Yet,  as  \vc  can  sec,  it  was  in  mercy 
and  love  that  Jesus  so  far  departed  from  his  usual 
course  as  to  invest  a  perfectly  natural  and  simple 
errand  in  a  cloud  of  mystery  which  baffled  all  pre- 
vision ;  we  can  see  that  He  was  bent  on  holding  Judas 
back  from  a  conscious  and  wilful  crime,  and  on  saving 
the  Eleven  from  unconsciously  betraying  Him  into  the 
hands  of  his  enemies  and  theirs. 

Shall  we  not  believe,  then,  that  the  knowledge  which 
we  sometimes  crave,  but  which  He  withholds  from  us, 
is  withheld  for  our  good — that  we  may  be  taught  to 
walk,  and  practised  in  walking,  by  faith  in  Him,  by  the 
light  of  those  great  and  clear  conceptions  of  duty  which 
He  has  implanted  in  our  hearts  ;  and  that  we  may  be 
spared  temptations  which  it  would  be  hard  for  us  to 
meet,  and  saved  from  sins  into  which  we  might,  con- 
sciously, or  unconsciously,  fall? 

Let  us  put  our  trust  in  Him  ;  for  so  long  as  He  sits 
on  the  throne  of  life  all  is,  and  must  be,  well  with  us. 


XXIV. 

THE   COMING  DAWN. 

A    CHRISTMAS    HOMILY. 

"  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night  ?  The  watchman  saith.  The  morning  cometh,  and  also  the 
night." — Isaiah  xxi.  ii,  12. 

"  The  night  is  far  spent,  and  the  day  is  at  hand." — Romans 
xiii.  12. 

The  Hebrew  Prophet,  oppressed  with  many  forebodings, 
stands,  in  spirit,  on  his  lofty  watch-tower  at  Jerusalem, 
and  looks  and  listens  round  the  whole  horizon,  to  catch 
any  movement,  any  omen  of  change,  that  he  may  learn 
what  it  is  which  is  coming  on  the  sons  of  men.  Already, 
while  gazing  stedfastly  to  the  north,  he  has  seen  the 
Persian  host  plunging  into  the  darkness  which  enshrouds 
Babylon,  and,  after  a  long  interval  of  keen  suspense, 
issuing  from  it  with  jubilant  cries  of  victory  ;  and  he 
knows  that  the  doom  of  the  great  Babylonian  tyranny 
has  come  (Verses  i-io).  But,  now,  a  voice,  quick  and 
urgent  with  anxiety,  strikes  upon  him  from  the  south. 
On  the  sentinel  rock,  which  stands  in  front  of  the  Red 


A  CHRISTMAS  HOMILY.  337 

Range  of  Edom,  he  dimly  descries  a  watcher  h'ke  him- 
self, a  representative  of  the  Edomites — those  wild  brave 
sons  of  Esau  who,  living  by  the  sword,  had  been  "  eaten 
by  the  sword  "  for  many  long  years  ;  but  who,  under  all 
the  oppressions  of  defeat  and  vassalage,  have  cherished 
an  indomitable  love  of  freedom.  It  is  impersonated 
Edom  which  asks  of  Isaiah,  "  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night  ?"  z.^.,  "  What  hour  of  the  night  is  it,  and  what 
does  it  look  like  ? "  but  asks  in  the  tone  of  one  tossing 
on  his  bed,  worn  out  with  pain  and  weary  with  longing 
for  the  day  ;  so  that  his  question  really  means,  "Is  the 
night  well-nigh  gone?  Will  it  soon  pass?  Is  there 
any  sign  of  dawn  ? "  But  the  Prophet  has  no  clear 
vision  of  the  Edomite  future.  All  he  can  see  is  that,  if 
a  dawn  of  freedom  and  hope  is  rising  on  them,  it  will 
soon  be  swallowed  up  in  darkness.  And  hence  he 
replies,  with  all  the  brevity,  but  with  all  the  ambiguity,  of 
an  oracle,  "  The  morning  comcth,  but  the  night  cometh 
also."  Yet,  because  he  would  not  cut  off  even  the  most 
implacable  enemies  of  Israel  from  hope,  he  adds,  "  If  ye 
will  inquire,  inquire  ;  return,  come  again."  Beyond  the 
night  there  may  be  another  dawn  of  hope.  Let  them 
not  altogether  lose  heart,  then,  but  come  and  inquire 
again,  when  he  may  have  a  clearer  vision  and  a  more 
welcome  answer  to  give  them. 

The   Christian    Apostle,   bent    on    employing   every 
argument  for  holiness  and  charity  to  which  he  can  lay 
21 


338  THE  COMING  DA  WN. 

his  pen,  sums  up  his  exhortation  to  the  disciples  at 
Rome  with  an  appeal  to  that  second  advent  of  Christ 
which  both  he  and  they  believed  to  be  close  at  hand. 
He  tries  to  rouse  them  to  a  more  stedfast  and  earnest 
struggle  against  all  the  fatal  but  alluring  forms"  of  vice 
which  haunt  the  darkness,  by  reminding  them  that  the 
night  of  the  world  is  nearly  over,  that  the  dawn  of  that 
great  day  is  near  on  which  all  the  works  of  darkness 
shall  be  reproved.  And,  because  "the  night  is  far  spent, 
and  the  day  is  at  hand,"  he  urges  them  to  put  off  the 
garments  of  night,  to  renounce  all  its  dark  deeds,  and  to 
array  themselves  in  the  armour  of  light,  to  take  a  valiant 
part  in  the  long  conflict  in  which  evil  is  to  be  overcome 
of  good. 

This,  I  take  it,  is  what  these  two  passages  meant  for 
those  to  whom  they  were  originally  addressed  ;  and  I 
have  brought  them  together  because  even  now,  if  we 
should  ask  the  question,  "Watchman,  what  of  the  night  .^ 
Is  it  well-nigh  gone  .-* "  we  can  only  answer  it  truly  as 
we  adopt  and  blend  the  answers  both  of  the  Apostle 
and  of  the  Prophet  If  we  can  say,  "  The  night  is  far 
spent,  and  the  day  is  at  hand,"  we  must  also  say,  "  The 
morning  cometh,  but  the  night  cometh  also." 

I  am  by  no  means  the  first,  however,  who  has  brought 
these  two  passages  together,  and  woven  them  into  one. 
That  great  musician,  that  great  artist  and  poet  who 
worked  in  tones  instead  of  in  words  or  colours,  Mendel- 


A  CHRISTMAS  HOMILY.  339 

ssohn,  has  given  admirable  expression  to  them  both  in 
his  Hymn  of  Praise.  Many  of  you  must  remember  the 
keen  and  pathetic  appeal  of  the  ascending  strain  in 
which  the  tenor  soloist  demands,  "  Watchman,  will  the 
night  soon  pass  ? "  The  demand  is  repeated  thrice,  in 
the  same  sequence  of  notes,  though,  on  each  repetition,  it 
is  raised  a  whole  tone  in  the  scale,  to  denote  the  growing 
urgency  of  the  speaker.  And  you  will  also  remember, 
after  the  Voice  has  twice  sung  in  reply,  "The  Watchman 
only  said.  Though  the  morning  will  come,  the  night  will 
come  also,"  with  what  a  loud  glad  outburst  of  praise  the 
full  chorus  breaks  in  with  the  final  reply,  "  The  night  is 
departing,  the  day  is  approaching  ;  therefore  let  us  cast 
off  the  works  of  darkness,  and  let  us  gird  on  the  armour 
of  light."  That  has  long  seemed  to  me  one  of  the  finest 
and  most  dramatic  movements  in  the  whole  realm  of 
music.  And,  moreover,  it  has  this  special  value  for  us, 
that  it  is  an  admirable  commentary  on  my  text,  partly 
because  it  blends  both  the  Prophetic  and  the  Apostolic 
answers  into  one,  and  partly  because  it  indicates  where 
the  true  emphasis  falls,  and  which  is  really  the  final 
answer  of  the  two. 

To-day   is    both    Christmas    Sunday   and    the    last 

Sunday  of  the  year.»     As  the  year  closes,  it  is  natural 

that  we  should  ask,  "  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?     Is 

it  well-nigh  gone,  and  is  the  day  at  hand  ?  "     And,  but 

'  December  26,  1886. 


340  THE  COMING  DA  WN. 

for  the  fact  which  Christmas  commemorates,  we  should 
have  no  reply  to  that  question  save  one  :  "  Though  the 
morning  cometh,  the  night  cometh  also."  It  is  only  the 
advent  of  Christ,  and  the  prophecy  latent  in  that  Advent, 
which  enable  us  to  add,  and  to  add  in  the  full  assurance 
of  faith  :  "  The  night  is  far  spent,  and  the  day,  the  day 
which  has  no  night,  is  at  hand." 

I.  That  you  may  see  that  both  these  answers  to  the 
question  which  the  World  and  the  Church  have  so 
long  been  asking  are  true,  and  in  what  sense  they  are 
true,  let  us  consider  how  far  St.  Paul's  answer  to  it 
has  been  fulfilled  ;  whether  the  day  which  he  foresaw 
did  not  really  come,  but  also  whether  this  day  was 
not  followed  by  a  night  and  the  promise  of  its  dawn 
overcast.  When  he  stood  on  his  watch-tower  and  sur- 
veyed the  horizon,  he  had  much  reason  to  believe  that 
the  night  of  heathenism  was  far  spent ;  that  the  day 
of  the  Lord,  the  day  on  which  Christ  would  take  to 
Himself  his  great  power  and  rule  in  all  the  earth,  was 
close  at  hand.  Paul  himself  had  carried  the  light  which 
is  the  life  of  men  to  nearly  all  the  great  centres  of  human 
thought  and  activity — to  Antioch,  to  Athens  and  Corinth, 
to  Ephesus  and  Colossae,  Philippi  and  Thessalonica,  and 
indeed  to  most  of  the  great  cities  round  the  Mediter- 
ranean Sea ;  while  other  disciples  had  carried  it  to  Rome, 
to  Egypt,  and  throughout  the  crowded  East.  And 
everywhere  the    light    was    welcomed.     It    was  rapidly 


A  CHRISTMAS  HOMILY.  341 

spreading  everywhere.  How,  then,  could  he  doubt  that 
tlic  darkness  was  passing  away,  that  the  dawn,  already 
kindling  on  the  high  places  of  the  earth,  would  sweep 
down  from  the  mountains  into  the  valleys,  regenerating 
the  whole  world,  and  making  it  everywhere  bring  forth 
the  fruits  of  light  in  all  goodness  and  righteousness  and 
truth  ? 

But  as  we  look  back  on  the  period  to  which  he  looked 
forward  with  such  confident  hope,  we  can  see  that  the 
end  was  not  yet,  although  it  seemed  so  near  ;  that, 
though  a  morning  came,  a  night  came  also.  A  new  day 
did  dawn  on  the  world  ;  but  it  was  not  that  great  day 
of  the  Lord  on  which  all  things  arc  to  be  made  new. 
Light  did  shine  into  the  darkness ;  but  the  darkness  was 
not  wholly  and  for  ever  dispersed.  The  kingdom  of 
Christ  was  set  up  on  the  earth  ;  but  it  did  not  cover  the 
earth.  Knowledge  grew  from  more  to  more  ;  but  igno- 
rance and  superstition  and  vice  were  not  extirpated. 
Life  was  quickened  in  the  very  heart  of  death  ;  but 
death  was  not  abolished.  Many  who  had  been  lost 
were  found,  many  who  had  been  bound  were  set  free  ; 
but  the  rcu'c  was  not  saved  and  enfranchised  into  the 
love  and  service  of  righteousness.  The  Apostolic  day, 
or  age,  was  hardly  over  before  the  night  came  rushing 
back  ;  and  in  a  few  centuries  the  dogmas  and  supersti- 
tions, the  vices  and  crimes,  of  heathenism  were  to  be 
found  in  the  very  Church  itself,  where,  alas,  too  many  of 


342  THE  COMING  DA  WN. 

them  still  linger.  If  the  Apostle's  forecast  was  in  some 
sense  true,  and  a  day,  though  not  the  day,  of  Christ 
was  at  hand,  so  too  was  the  Prophet's,  "  Though  the 
morning  cometh,  the  night  cometh  also  ;"  and  for  long 
centuries  the  very  Light  that  was  in  the  world  was 
turned  to  darkness,  or  so  blended  with  darkness  that 
the  old  heathen  selfishness,  and  sensuality,  and  tyranny, 
eclipsed  the  meekness,  the  purity,  the  charity,  of  Christ 
Jesus. 

Yet  even  in  "the  dark  ages  "there  was  a  remnant 
who  had  light  in  their  dwellings,  and  did  not  altogether 
lose  hope.  And  when  the  day  of  the  Reformation 
dawned  on  Europe,  Luther  and  his  compeers  had  little 
doubt  that  the  true  day  of  the  Lord  had  come  at  last, 
that  a  light  had  arisen  which  would  speedily  renew  the 
face  of  the  earth.  And  a  day  liad  come,  but  not  the 
great  day  of  Christ.  The  end  was  not  even  yet.  Over 
its  larger  spaces,  even  Europe  still  lies  in  darkness,  the 
darkness  of  superstition,  or  sensuality,  or  indifference  ; 
while  in  Africa,  Asia  with  its  teeming  millions,  and 
South  America,  we  can  discern  only  distant  and 
twinkling  points  of  light  which  are  all  but  lost  in  the 
surrounding  darkness. 

So  that  when  we  in  our  turn  ask,  "  Watchman,  what 
of  the  night  ?  Is  it  almost  gone  ?  Will  it  soon  pass  ? " 
we  too  can  often  hear  none  but  the  old  reply,  "  If  a 
morning  is  coming,  so  also  is  a  night."     We  try  to  hope, 


A  CHRISTMAS  HOMILY.  343 

but  the  verdict  of  History  is  against  us.  Many  before 
us  have  hoped  that  the  day  of  Christ,  the  golden  age  of 
righteousness  and  peace,  was  at  hand,  and  their  hope 
made  them  ashamed.  How  can  we  look  for  a  happiness 
denied  to  them  ?  Analogy  is  against  us.  How  long  it 
took  to  make  the  world  !  how  slowly  was  it  built  up, 
inch  by  inch,  before  it  was  ready  for  the  foot  of  man  ! 
And  how  intolerably  slow  is  man's  growth  and  develop- 
ment !  Despite  all  our  boasts  of  modern  progress,  was 
Goethe  or  Carlyle,  is  any  living  philosopher  or  poet,  a 
much  wiser  man  than  Plato  ?  Would  Professor  Huxley 
place  himself  above  Aristotle  ?  Is  Edison  more  inven- 
tive than  Archimedes  ?  Might  you  not  reasonably 
hesitate  before  pronouncing  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury a  better  man  than  Socrates,  or  Mr.  Spurgeon  than 
Epictetus  .?  And  do  you  not  gravely  doubt  whether 
even  the  holiest  saint  of  modern  times  is  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  simple  and  unlearned  men  and  women 
who,  nineteen  centuries  ago,  ate  their  food  with  glad 
simplicity  of  heart  and,  in  life  and  in  death,  were  for 
ever  praising  the  God  who  had  revealed  Himself  to 
them  in  the  face  of  Jesus  the  Christ  ? 

Reason  and  experience  are  against  us.  Think  what 
the  world  is  like, — how  nation  makes  war  on  nation,  and 
class  on  class,  how  common  and  unblushing  vice  is 
even  among  those  who  should  be  best  fortified  against 
it  by  education  and  position,  how  much  of  our  virtue  is 


344  THE  COMING  DA  WN. 

but  a  prudent  and  calculating  selfishness  !  Think  how 
hard  we  ourselves  know  it  to  be  to  wean  even  one  heart 
from  selfishness  and  self-indulgence,  and  to  fix  it  in  the 
love  and  pursuit  of  whatsoever  is  true  and  fair,  good  and 
kind  ;  how  slowly  we  advance  in  godliness  even  when 
we  have  the  grace  of  God  to  help  us  and  are  working 
together  with  Him  !  Remember  that,  before  the  Re- 
generation can  come,  before  the  day  and  kingdom  of 
Christ  can  be  established  in  all  the  world,  every  heart 
has  to  be  redeemed  from  evil  and  imperfection,  has  to 
be  made  just,  pure,  charitable,  and  compassionate,  that 
all  classes  and  all  races  have  to  be  taught  to  live 
together  in  love  and  amity.  And  then  tell  me  whether 
you  can  honestly  say,  "  The  night  is  far  spent,  and  the 
day  is  at  hand  ; "  whether  you  must  not  rather  say, 
"  The  dawn  may  be  coming,  but  as  surely  as  the  day 
comes,  the  night  will  come  also  ;  many  days,  and  many 
nights,  must  still  pass,  many  alternations  of  light  and 
darkness  must  sweep  across  the  face  of  the  earth,  before 
the  great  day  of  the  Lord  can  arise  and  shine  upon  us." 
2.  If  that  be  your  conclusion — and  I  have  shewn  you 
how  much  support  it  has  in  history,  in  analogy,  and  in 
the  reasoning  which  is  based  on  experience — I  have 
good  tidings  for  you  ;  or^^ rather,  the  Season  itself  has 
"  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  "  for  us  all.  For,  though  I 
cannot  deny  that  many  mornings  must  be  followed  by 
many  nights  before  the  day  of  universal  righteousness 


A  CHRISTMAS  HOMILY.  345 

and  peace  will  break  on  the  world,  and  the  horologe  of 

Time  will  ring  in 

the  hnppy  age, 
When  truth  and  love  shall  dwell  below 
Among  the  works  and  ways  of  men, 

yet  the  very  meaning  and  message  of  Advent  is,  that  all 
these  mornings  and  evenings  are  gradually  leading  in 
the  day  of  the  Lord  ;  that  He  is  preparing  for  the 
coming  of  his  kingdom  in  the  darkness  as  well  as  in  the 
light,  by  every  night  through  which  we  pass  as  well  as 
every  day,  by  every  disappointment  and  every  postpone- 
ment of  hope  as  well  as  by  every  fulfilment.  "The 
night  is  departing,"  the  darkness  abating  ;  "the  day  is 
approaching,"  the  light  spreading  and  growing.  He 
who  came  in  great  humility  will  come  again  in  glory 
and  in  power.  Many  forms  of  wrong,  cruelty,  and  vice 
are  impossible  now  which  were  possible,  and  even 
common,  before  the  Son  of  God  and  Son  of  Man 
dwelt  among  us  ;  nay,  even  before  the  Reformation 
carried  through  Europe  a  light  by  which  such  deeds 
of  darkness  were  reproved.  The  individual  man  may 
stand  little  higher,  whether  in  wisdom  or  in  goodness, 
than  of  old  ;  but  the  number  of  men  capable  of  high 
thoughts,  noble  aims,  and  lives  devoted  to  the  service  of 
truth  and  righteousness,  is  incomparably  larger.  The 
world  took  long  to  make,  and  may  take  still  longer  to 
re-make  ;  but  its  re-creation  in  the  image  of  God  is  just 


346  THE  COMING  DA  WN. 

as  certain  as  its  creation.  The  darkness  of  ignorance 
and  superstition  may  still  lie  heavily  over  the  larger' 
spaces  of  the  world  ;  but  the  points  of  light  are  rapidly 
increasing.  The  dawn  is  visibly  trembling  up  the  sky  ; 
and  the  great  day,  still  so  far  off  to  us,  is  nigh  at  hand, 
is  as  though  it  were  already  come,  to  the  Inhabitant  of 
Eternity,  who  faints  not  neither  is  weary,  whose  word 
cannot  be  broken,  whose  gifts  and  promises  can  never 
be  recalled. 

Fear  not,  then,  though  there  be  much  within  you  to 
quicken  fear,  and  so  much  around  you  to  confirm  that 
fear.  It  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give  you  the 
kingdom.  He  who  came  to  seek  the  lost  will  not  desist 
from  the  search  "  until  he  find  them."  He  who  came  to 
save  the  world  %vill  save  it.  He  who  has  taught  us  to 
pray,  "  Thy  kingdom  come;  thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as 
it  is  done  in  heaven,"  will  see  to  it  that  his  kingdom 
does  come,  that  his  will  shall  be  so  done  on  earth  as  to 
change  and  lift  earth  into  heaven.  He  who  took  on 
Him  the  nature  of  man  will  redeem  that  nature  from 
every  trace  of  its  bondage  to  evil.  He  who  made  the 
whole  world  better  by  dwelling  in  it  for  a  few  years,  will 
make  it  perfect  by  dwelling  in  it  for  ever.  He  who  died 
for  all  will  win  and  rule  over  all,  drawing  all  men  unto 
Himself  by  the  cords  of  a  love  stronger  than  death.  As 
we  count  time,  the  end  is  not  yet  ;  but  as  God  counts 
time,  the  end  is  not  far  off. 


A  CHRISTMAS  HOMILY.  347 

If,  then,  in  the  h'ght  of  this  great  hope,  of  this  great 
fact,  of  which  the  Advent  of  Christ  is  our  guarantee, 
we  once  more  raise  and  reply  to  the  question,  "  Watch- 
man, what  of  the  night?  Is  it  well-nigh  gone?  Will 
it  soon  pass  ?  "  though  our  first  answer  must  be,  "  Many- 
mornings  arc  coming,  to  be  followed  by  many  nights  ;  " 
yet,  remembering  that  God  is  in  the  darkness  as  well 
as  in  the  light,  and  that  in  Him  there  is  no  darkness 
at  all,  our  final  reply  must  be,  "  Every  morning,  and 
every  night,  brings  the  great  day  nearer;  and  hence  the 
night  is  departing,  the  day  is  at  hand." 


XXV. 

THE  BENEDICTION. 

A   HOMILY   FOR   THE    NEW   YEAR. 

"The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  aU." — 2  Thes- 
SALONIANS  iii.  1 8. 

Can  we  begin  the  year  with  better  words,  or  words  of 
better  omen,  than  these  ?  As  the  year  opens  we  salute 
each  other  with  good  wishes.  Can  we  frame  a  better 
wish  than  this  for  each  other  ?  In  the  young  every  new 
year  unseals  a  new  fountain  of  hope  and  happy  expecta- 
tion ;  and  even  in  the  oldest  of  us,  and  most  wayworn, 
there  is  some  faint  stirring  of  hope  :  if  we  can  do  no 
more,  we  trust  that  somehow,  in  some  sense,  this  may 
prove  a  happier  year  than  the  last,  that  it  may  bring  us 
less  pain,  less  loss,  less  disappointment,  or  a  clearer  view 
of  duty,  a  loftier  ideal,  power  to  live  more  nearly  as  we 
think  and  pray.  And,  young  or  old,  if  we  take  our  life 
thoughtfully  and  in  a  Christian  spirit,  we  feel  our  need 
of  a  higher  wisdom,  a  more  pure  and  enduring  energy, 
to  guide  our  steps,  to  mould  our  character,  to  shape  our 


A  HOMILY  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR,  349 

lot  for  us  ;  wc  lift  up  our  eyes  to  Heaven,  and  ask  a 
benediction  on  all  our  days,  and  on  all  our  ways,  a  grace 
which  will  make  us  equal  to  any  fortune  that  may  come 
upon  us,  and  teach  us  how  to  pluck,  from  seeming  evil, 
a  real  and  abiding  good. 

"  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you." — 
Do  not  these  words  meet  your  sense  of  need,  your 
craving  for  good,  your  hope  of  a  benediction  which  will 
make  the  new  year  a  happy  new  year  to  you  all  ?  To 
St.  Paul  they  conveyed  and  implied  so  much,  they  were 
so  bright  with  hope,  that  they  became  his  standing  good 
wish  for  those  whom  he  loved.  In  some  form  we  find 
them  at  the  close  of  nearly  all  the  Letters  he  wrote  ; 
now  reading,  "  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be 
with  you,"  and  now,  "  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  be  with  your  spirit,"  and  now,  as  in  my  text, 
"  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  all." 
And  to  the  Church  they  convey  and  imply  so  much  that, 
in  all  her  branches,  they  form  the  benediction,  or  part 
of  the  benediction,  with  which  every  public  service 
concludes. 

But  constant  repetition  may  have  dulled  their  force 
and  clearness.  They  may  mean  little  or  nothing  for 
you  because  you  have  so  often  heard  them  ;  or  they 
may  have  none  but  a  technical  or  theological  meaning 
because  you  have  seldom  heard  them  except  from  the 
pulpit.     You  may  never  have  thought  of  them,  never 


350  THE  BENEDICTION. 

have  asked  what  the  words  meant  originally  and  still 
mean,  what  the  grace  of  Christ  was  and  is,  and  in  what 
senses  that  grace  may  be  with  you,  and  be  the  crown 
and  benediction  of  your  whole  life.  And,  therefore,  I 
must  point  out  that  the  phrase,  "  the  grace  of  Christ," 
would  convey  at  least  three  ideas  ^  to  the  members  of 
the  Early  Church,  and  should  convey  the  same  ideas 
to  us  ;  and  that  if  the  grace  of  Christ  is  to  "  be  with 
you,"  or  to  be  "  with  your  spirit,"  you  must  in  all  these 
senses  reproduce  it  and  make  it  your  own. 

I.  The  first  thought  which  this  phrase  would  suggest 
to  St.  Paul's  readers,  especially  to  his  Grecian  readers — 
and  most  of  his  converts  were  Greeks — would  be  the 
gracefulness,  the  charm,  of  Christ.  They  would  under- 
stand the  Apostle  to  refer  to  that  exquisite  sensibility 
to  beauty,  the  beauty  of  Nature  and  of  Man,  by  which 
Christ  was  distinguished,  that  love  of  all  that  is  fair  and 
pure  and  good  which  gave^'a  beauty,  a  winning  charm, 
an  attractiveness,  to  his  person,  his  character,  his  manner 
and  bearing,  and  to  his  words,  which  no  heart  not  wholly 
dead  to  beauty  and  goodness  was  able  to  resist.  Both 
the  Puritan  conception  and  the  Monastic,  or  ascetic, 
conception  of  Christ  have  gone  far  to  hide  this  thought 
from  us — so  far  that  I  have  heard  grave  and  reverend 
men  argue  from  such  texts  as  "  His  face  was  more 
marred  than  that  of  any  man  "  that  they  do  greatly  err 
'  See  Cremer's  Lexicon,  Art.  Xapif. 


A  HOMILY  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  351 

who  attribute  any  comeliness  to  the  Man  of  Sorrows. 
And  most  of  you,  I  suppose,  have  heard  all  beauty  de- 
nounced as  a  snare,  and  have  been  warned  to  suspect 
whatever  charms  the  senses  or  wins  the  heart.  And  yet, 
the  moment  we  reflect  upon  it,  this  conception  of  Christ, 
as  without  form  or  comeliness,  is  wholly  incredible.  If 
the  story  of  the  miraculous  conception  be  not  a  mere 
myth,  what  could  the  Child  of  a  pure  Virgin  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  the  Spirit  of  all  goodness  and  beauty,  be 
but  the  most  pure,  beautiful,  and  attractive  of  men  ? 
Nay,  even  if  it  be  a  mere  myth,  who  can  believe  that 
the  one  Perfect  Man  was  destitute  of  any  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  his  inward  perfection  ?  A  lovely  spirit 
does,  indeed,  transfigure  even  the  plainest  features  and 
lend  them  a  charm  beyond  that  of  a  simply  formal 
beauty  ;  but  a  lovely  spirit  in  a  lovely  form  is  a  still 
more  potent  force.  And  hence  the  great  painters  who 
have  invested  the  face  and  figure  of  our  Lord  with  all 
the  perfections  of  manly  beauty,  and  who  have  added 
a  pathetic  charm  to  that  beauty  by  depicting  the  perfect 
face  as  worn  and  wasted  with  thought,  with  compassion, 
with  all  the  toil  and  burden  of  his  great  work  of  love, 
have  reason  on  their  side,  and  give  us,  we  may  be  sure, 
a  far  truer  conception  of  Him  than  either  the  Puritan 
or  the  I^Ionk. 

For  the  whole  story  of  his  life  shews  both  that  He 
was  exquisitely  sensitive  to  beauty  in  every  form,  and 


352  THE  BENEDICTION. 

that  He  had  the  still  rarer  power  of  reproducing  that 
beauty  in  his  words  and  ways.  The  whole  world  of 
Nature  lives  again  in  his  discourses  and  parables,  to 
prove  how  keen  He  was  to  note  the  loveliness  of  the 
world  around  Him  ;  while  these  same  parables  and  dis- 
courses are  so  perfect,  both  in  substance  and  in  expres- 
sion, as  to  prove  that  He  could  reproduce  this  beauty 
in  still  more  exquisite  and  enduring  forms.  And  what 
a  keen  eye  for  beauty  of  character,  for  a  latent  unsus- 
pected goodness,  must  He  have  possessed  who  saw  in 
doubting  Nathanael  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  fickle  and 
impetuous  Simon  a  stedfast  Rock,  in  the  gentle  loving 
John  a  son  of  thunder,  in  timid  and  halting  Nicodemus, 
and  even  in  the  wanton  of  Samaria,  fitting  recipients  for 
the  deepest  truths  of  his  kingdom,  in  Mary's  waste  of 
ointment  an  insight  which  transcended  that  of  the  very 
Apostles,  and  in  the  self-humiliation  of  the  woman  who 
was  a  sinner  a  love  capable  of  transforming  her  into  a 
saint !  He  who  spoke  the  most  beautiful  words  that 
have  fallen  from  human  lips  ;  He  who  clothed  perfect 
thoughts  in  forms  so  perfect  that  the  noblest  spirits  of 
every  subsequent  age  have  held  them  to  be  "  sweeter 
than  honey  "  and  more  precious  than  "  much  fine  gold," 
and  yet  in  forms  so  simple  that  the  common  people  have 
always  heard  them  gladly ;  He  who  was  at  home  with 
all  classes,  learned  and  ignorant,  rich  and  poor,  powerful 
or  enslaved,  who  saw  good  even  in  the  worst,  and  found 


A  HOMILY  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  353 

something  to  love,  to  pity,  to  admire  even  in  the  for- 
lorncst  outcast  ;  He  to  whom  little  children  ran  for  a 
caress,  round  whom  wronged  women  and  outcast  men 
gathered  as  a  friend, — was  there  no  beauty,  no  charm, 
in  Him  ?  was  there  not  rather  a  charm  which  no  open 
and  susceptible  heart  could  withstand  ? 

This  beauty,  this  charm,  this  gracefulness,  is  to  be 
with  us,  is  to  be  ours,  if  "  the  grace  of  Christ "  is  to  be 
with  us.  That  is  to  say,  the  wish,  the  benediction,  of 
my  text  summons  us  to  cultivate  the  love  of  all  that  is 
fair,  ail  that  is  good — all  that  is  fair  in  nature,  all  that 
is  good  in  men  ;  and  to  reproduce  it,  so  far  as  we  may, 
in  our  words,  in  our  manner,  in  our  lives.  We  are  7iot 
to  suspect  beauty,  but  to  love  and  admire,  to  delight 
ourseKcs  in  it.  We  are,  not  only  to  admire  goodness, 
and  especially  graceful  forms  of  goodness,  but  to  imitate 
and  appropriate  them.  We  are  not  to  be  content  with 
being  sourly  or  austerely  good,  but  to  aim  at  being 
winningly  and  attractively  good. 

The  beautiful  mind,  the  beautiful  manner,  of  Christ, 
the  charm  of  his  character,  his  speech,  his  dealings  and 
intercourse  with  his  fellows,  be  with  you  all  .■•—this  is 
what  our  good  wish  for  the  new  year  means.  And 
because  it  is  the  grace,  or  gracefulness,  of  Christ  which 
is  invoked  on  you,  you  run  no  risk — as  Stopford  Brooke 
has  pointed  out — should  the  wish  be  fulfilled,  from  two 
dangers  to  which  the  mere  lover  of  beauty  is  exposed, 
24 


354  THE  BENEDICTION. 

and  into  which  the  aesthetes  of  to-day  seem  only  too  apt 
to  fall.  For  the  devotee  of  beauty  lies  open  to  the 
danger  both  of  shrinking  from  and  detesting  that  which 
is  ugly,  or  vulgar,  or  common-place,  and  of  putting 
beauty  before  justice  and  charity  and  truth,  i.e.^  of 
neglecting  the  moral  virtues  when  they  would  impede, 
or  when  he  thinks  they  would  impede,  his  enjoyment 
of  that  which  is  lovely  and  attractive.  For  beautiful 
as  He  was,  and  much  as  He  loved  beauty,  the  Lord 
Jesus  did  not  shrink  from  the  vulgar  and  the  rude,  but, 
by  his  love  and  courtesy,  raised  them  above  themselves. 
He  did  not  turn  away  from  that  which  was  repulsive, 
but  touched  the  leper,  laid  his  healing  hand  on  the  sight- 
less eyeballs  of  the  blind,  hushed  the  wild  fury  of  the 
possessed,  sought  and  found  his  chief  friends  among 
unlettered  peasants  and  fishermen,  shewed  Himself  the 
Friend  of  publicans  and  sinners.  As  there  is  no  figure 
so  graceful,  gentle,  and  attractive  as  his  in  the  whole 
story  of  man,  so  also  there  is  none  which  administers 
a  severer  rebuke  to  the  effeminate  self-indulgence  of 
those  who,  in  their  quest  of  beauty,  turn  away  from  the 
hard  and  sorrowful  realities  of  life,  and  cherish  a  dainty 
scorn  for  all  who  do  not  share  their  self-pleasing,  self- 
stultifying,  dream. 

Nor  did  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  cultivate  gracefulness 
at  the  expense  of  truth  or  justice.  The  ethical  was  more 
to    Him   than   the   beautiful.     Courteous    as    He   was, 


A  HOMILY  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  355 


winning  in  manner,  meek  and  gentle  in  spirit  and  in 
speech,  He  hated  evil  in  every  form,  and,  above  all, 
the  evil  which  deemed  itself  good  and  put  on  airs  of 
piety.  lie  could  rebuke,  in  words  that  still  burn  with 
indignation,  the  rich  who  robbed  the  poor,  the  strong 
who  oppressed  the  feeble,  the  Levites  who  turned  the 
Temple  into  a  den  of  thieves,  and  the  House  for  all 
nations  into  a  private  estate,  the  Pharisees  who  hid  their 
greed,  their  unmercifulness,  their  immorality,  under  a 
veil  of  broad  phylacteries  and  long  prayers  uttered  at 
the  corners  of  the  streets,  and  those  blind  leaders  of  the 
blind  who  made  void  the  commandments  of  God  with 
their  fond  traditions. 

The  grace  of  Christ,  then,  be  with  you  all— the  grace 
which,  while  it  lends  a  daily  beauty  to  the  daily  life,  does 
not  shrink  from  contact  with  the  harsh  and  ugly  facts  of 
life,  but  seeks  to  ameliorate  them  ;  the  grace  which,  so 
far  from  pursuing  beauty  at  the  cost  of  morality,  finds 
the  purest  and  highest  loveliness  in  duty,  in  justice,  in 
usefulness,  in  a  faithful  and  earnest  response  to  all  ethical 
claims. 

2.  But  graceful  manners  soon  break  down  under  the 
strain  of  change,  familiarity,  and  time,  unless  they  spring 
from  and  express  a  gracious  heart.  And  hence  I  must 
remind  you  of  the  second  meaning  latent  in  my  text. 
For  if  "the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  "  would  sug- 
gest  gracefulness  to  a  Greek,  to  a  Jew  it  would  suggest 


356  THE  BENEDICTION. 

gmcious7icss,2i\v\\\'\r\g,{r\cnd\Y,gcr\\a.\  spirit ;  not  righteous- 
ness simply,  but  a  genial  righteousness  ;  not  beneficence 
simply,  but  a  friendly  beneficence. 

There  are  men  who  are  weighted  all  their  lives  by  an 
unwilling,  a  reluctant,  an  unsympathetic  temperament. 
They  do  not  easily  consent  to  what  is  proposed  to  them  ; 
their  first  impulse  is  to  say  No  rather  than  Yes.  Not 
courtesy  alone  is  difficult  to  them,  but  thoughtfulness  for 
others,  consideration  for  their  wishes,  a  lenient  judgment 
of  their  faults,  a  kindly  interest  in  that  which  interests 
them.  Their  instinct  is  to  differ  rather  than  to  concur, 
to  wrangle  rather  than  to  assent,  to  criticize  and  condemn 
rather  than  to  work  with  their  neighbours  and  yield  to 
their  influence.  And  hence,  strive  as  they  will — and  few 
but  themselves  know  how  hard  and  bitter  the  strife  some- 
times is — they  lack  the  friendly  tone,  the  genial  manner, 
which  commands  confidence  and  love,  and  even  when 
they  do  do  good  are  apt  to  do  it  awkwardly  and  in  a  way 
which  hurts  or  offends  even  those  whom  they  help.  They 
do  not  give  themselves  with  their  gifts. 

But  you  find  no  trace  of  this  stiff,  reluctant,  self-con- 
tained temper  in  Jesus  Christ.  Little  though  He  had  to 
give  as  the  world  counts  gifts,  the  world  has  never  seen 
a  benefactor  to  be  compared  with  Him.  Not  only  did 
He  give  Himself  for  us  all,  but  He  gave  lUiiiself  \\\\\\  all 
his  gifts,  gave  all  He  had,  or  all  they  could  take,  to  every 
man  or  woman  who  approached  Him.     There  was  no 


A  HOMILY  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  337 

olTcncc  which  lie  was  not  ready  to  forgive,  even  to  the 
sin  of  Iscariot,  would  Judas  but  liave  sought  for<;ivcness. 
There  was  nothing  He  could  do  which  He  was  not  pre- 
pared to  do  for  any  who  asked  his  help.  So  gracious  was 
He,  so  stedfastly  did  his  will  stand  at  the  yielding  or 
giving  point,  that  virtue  went  out  of  Him  without  any 
conscious  exercise  of  will,  whenever  the  hand  of  faith  or 
need  was  laid  upon  Him.  And  how  interested  He  was 
in  all  who  spake  with  Him,  however  ignorant  or  faulty 
they  might  be  I  how  deeply  He  looked  into  their  hearts  ; 
how  He  drew  them  on,  and  drew  them  out,  till  they  had 
told  Him  their  inmost  secret,  till  they  had  relieved  their 
bosoms  of  the  perilous  stuff  hidden  there:  and  then  how 
wisely  and  delicately  He  adapted  his  words  and  gifts  to 
their  needs  ;  as  when,  for  example,  He  talked  with  the 
woman  of  Samaria  by  the  Well !  How  ready  He  was  to 
love  and  admire  them,  or  any  trace  of  good  in  them,  till 
they  rose  "  to  match  the  promise  in  his  ej-cs  ; "  as,  for 
instance,  in  the  faith  of  the  Syrophenician  woman  !  How 
much  good  He  saw  in  them  which  the  world  could  not 
see,  and  of  which  thcj'  themselves  had  lost  sight  ;  as,  for 
example,  in  Zaccheus,  that  true  son  of  Abraham  whom 
the  Pharisees  mistook  for  a  child  of  the  devil,  and  in  the 
Woman  who  bathed  his  feet  with  her  tears  and  wiped 
them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head  !  How  quick  He  was  to 
detect  any  moment  of  weakness  in  those  who  had  a  little 
f.iith   in   Him  but  hold  it  with  a  feeble  grasp,  and  how 


358  THE  BENEDICTION. 

prompt  to  strengthen  them  against  any  sudden  pressure 
of  unbelief  ;  as,  for  example,  when  He  said  to  the  falter- 
ing Ruler  of  the  synagogue,  "  Only  believe  ;  all  things  are 
possible  to  him  that  believeth  " ! 

liut  time  would  fail  me — I  should  have  to  go  through 
the  whole  story  of  his  life — even  to  allude  to  the  innu- 
merable proofs  of  his  graciousness,  of  his  willing  and 
friendly  heart ;  the  graciousness  which  enabled  Him  to 
give  so  much,  though  of  outward  good  He  had  so  little 
to  give,  and  which  made  his  every  gift  a  charm,  an  ele- 
vating and  abiding  power,  to  those  who  received  it,  or 
who  listened  to  the  gracious  words  which  proceeded  out 
of  his  mouth.  And  yet,  with  all  this  graciousness,  there 
was  no  softness,  no  weakness,  no  insincerity,  such  as  we 
often  find  associated  with  a  kindly  temperament :  there 
was  nothing  inconsiderate, or  indiscriminate,  in  his  bound- 
less charity ;  no  yielding  at  a  single  point  at  which  it 
would  have  been  wrong  to  yield  ;  no  want  of  faithfulness, 
or  even  of  severity  where  severity  was  needed.  He  was 
as  sincere  as  He  was  sympathetic,  rare  as  that  combina- 
tion is.  He  who  said  to  Simon,  "  Thou  art  the  Rock," 
could  also  say  to  him,  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan."  He 
who  said  to  a  sinful  woman,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn 
thee,"  said  also,  "  From  henceforth  sin  no  more."  And 
He  who  cured  a  sinful  man  of  the  paralysis  induced  by 
vice,  also  warned  him,  "  Sin  no  more,  lest  a  worse  thing" 
— worse  even  than  that  living  death  of  eight  and  thirty 
years  ! — "  come  upon  thee." 


A  HOMILY  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  359 


3.  Now  when  the  benediction  is  pronounced,  "  The 

grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  all,"  and  you 
understand  it  to  mean,  "May  you  partake  both  the  grace- 
fulness, and  the  graciousness,  of  Jesus  Christ,"  some  of 
you  may  be  tempted  to  say  :  "  That  is  past  praying  for. 
By  nature  and  temperament  we  are  hard,  cross-grained, 
unsympathetic,  disposed  to  differ  rather  than  to  agree,  to 
contend  for  our  own  rights  rather  than  to  yield  to  the 
claims  or  cravings  of  others.  How,  then,  can  we  be 
friendly,  courteous,  suave,  in  heart  and  bearing?  " 

And  the  true  answer  to  that  question  does  not  lie  in 
assuming  that  those  who  speak  thus  of  themselves  do 
not  know  themselves,  and  are  not  so  bad  as  they  make 
themselves  out  ;  but  in  pointing  out  to  them  how,  and 
with  what  large  measure  of  success,  other  men  have 
struggled  with  a  temperament  as  difficult  as  their  own, 
and  even  more  difficult  ;  how  in  the  whole  course  and  set 
of  Providence,  in  all  the  rebuffs  and  rebukes  which  dis- 
courtesy and  ungraciousness  inevitably  provoke,  God  is 
meeting  them  with  a  discipline  adapted  to  their  faults 
and  intended  to  wean  them  from  their  faults ;  and,  above 
all,  in  shewing  them  what  a  strange  and  wonderful  help 
there  is  for  them  in  the  grace  of  Christ, 

For,  finally,  "  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ " 
means  the  favour  of  Christ  ;  and  his  favour,  not  simply 
as  a  passive  goodwill,  or  as  the  pleasure  He  takes  in 
every  phase  of  our  conflict  with  evil  and  our  successful 


36o  THE  BENEDICTION. 

pursuit  of  that  which  is  good,  but  as  an  active  redeeming 
and  renewing  energy.  It  means  the  grace  as  of  a  true 
and  great  King  of  men,  who  forgives  freely,  bestows 
royally,  and  whose  bounty,  since  it  is  prompted  by  a 
larger  nature  than  theirs,  is  always  in  excess  of  the  merit 
of  his  servants  and  friends.  In  the  New  Testament,  as 
every  student  of  the  New  Testament  must  know,  the 
grace  of  Christ  is  constantly  used  in  this  high  sense,  used 
far  more  commonly  in  this  sense  than  in  any  other. 
Oftenest  of  all  it  is  employed  to  denote  a  loving  and 
divine  energy,  or  quality,  which  not  only  forgives,  but 
also  cleanses  us  from,  our  iniquity ;  which  not  only 
pardons,  but  redeems  us  from,  our  faults  and  sins :  an 
energy  which  attends  us  through  our  whole  career  to 
guard  us  against  temptation  or  make  us  strong  enough 
to  resist  temptation  ;  as  able  to  change,  elevate,  and 
purify  our  whole  character  and  disposition,  and  to  recreate 
us  in  its  own  likeness. 

And  who  dare  say  that,  with  this  giving  and  forgiving 
energy,  this  redeeming  and  renewing  grace,  ever  at  work 
upon  him,  he  cannot  become  pure,  friendly,  and  gracious 
in  heart,  and,  therefore,  simple,  courteous,  and  even  grace- 
ful in  manner  and  in  speech  ?  Who  dare  despair  of 
himself,  or  give  up  self-culture  as  hopeless,  if  the  strong 
Son  of  God  is  ever  waiting  to  come  to  his  help,  ever 
seeking  to  bestow  his  gracefulness,  his  graciousncss,  to 
exert  his  forgiving  and  redeeming  power  upon  us,  to  re- 


A  HOMILY  FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR.  361 

cast  our  nature,  our  character,  our  temperament,  on  the 
larger  fairer  h'nes  of  his  own  ? 

"  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you 
all  ; "  the  grace  which  redeems,  renews,  recreates  the 
inward  man  of  the  heart,  and  so  clothes  even  the  out- 
ward man  of  behaviour  with  a  new  and  friendlier  charm. 
Amen. 


XXVI. 

THE  SELF-SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST. 

A  SACRAMENTAL  HOMILY. 

"Thinkest  thou  that  I  cannot  ask  my  Father,  and  he  shall 
instantly  send  me  more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels  ?" — Matthew 
xxvi.  53. 

In  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  we  commemorate 
the  death  of  the  Son  of  Man.  That  death  was  a  sacri- 
fice. The  sacrifice  was  voluntary.  It  is,  indeed,  of  the 
essence  of  all  sacrifice  that  the  human  will  which,  by  an 
abuse  of  its  freedom,  has  wandered  from  the  Divine  Will, 
should  freely  return  and  close  with  that  Will.  Sacrifice 
is  for  atonement  :  and  how  should  the  will  of  man  be 
made  one  with  the  will  of  God  save  as  it  confesses  the 
sin  of  disobedience  to  that  Will,  and  pledges  itself  to 
obey  it  ? 

But  if  all  true  sacrifice  be  self-sacrifice,  the  sacrifice  of 
selfwill  to  the  will  of  God,  because  that  Will  is  seen  to  be 
better  than  ours,  then  we  may  say  both  that  the  life  of 
Christ  was  a  perpetual  sacrifice,  and  that  this  sacrifice 


A  SACRAMENTAL  HOMILY.  363 

culminated  in  his  death.  For,  throughout  his  life,  He 
pleased  not  Himself,  but  God,  doing  not  his  own  will, 
but  the  will  of  the  Father  who  sent  Him  ;  while,  in  his 
death,  He  gave  the  last  consummate  proof  of  a  will  not 
to  be  shaken  from  its  rest  in  God  by  any  terror,  by  any 
pang.  The  sin  of  the  world  consisted  in  its  violation  of 
the  great  law  of  all  spiritual  life — obedience  to  the  highest, 
purest,  kindest  Will  we  know  :  and  hence  the  sin  of  the 
world  could  only  be  taken  away  by  a  sacrifice  in  which 
that  Will  was  freely  obeyed  at  the  cost  of  all  that  men 
hold  dear  ;  a  Sacrifice  moreover  which  should  ultimately 
bend  the  will  of  the  world  to  an  obedience  as  free  and  as 
perfect  as  its  own. 

I.  But  if  all  true  sacrifice  be  self-sacrifice,  if  its  virtue 
consists  in  the  sacrifice  of  that  will  in  us  which  moves  us 
to  depart  from  the  will  of  God,  we  need  not  be  surprised 
to  find  so  much  stress  laid  on  the  perfect  freedom,  the 
perfect  voluntariness,  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ.  Had  it 
not  been  voluntary, it  would  have  been  no  true  sacrifice: 
for  what  virtue  is  there  is  an  ///voluntary,  a  compelled, 
obedience?  It  is  only  a  willing  obedience  which  can 
atone  for  disobedience.  Only  a  willing  obedience,  more- 
over, could  have  so  touched  us  as  to  reproduce  itself  in 
us,  and  set  our  wills  in  tune  with  Heaven.  The  First- 
born among  many  brethren  must  be  seen  to  do  his 
Father's  will  freely,  cheerfully,  gladly,  if  the  younger 
members  of  the  family  arc  to  catch  from  his  example  a 


364  THE  SELF-SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST. 

noble  infection  of  obedience.  Let  him  obey  grudgingly, 
reluctantly,  on  compulsion  and  not  from  love,  and  as 
there  will  be  no  virtue  in  his  own  obedience,  so  also 
there  will  be  no  healthy  and  noble  contagion  in  his 
example  ;  it  will  tell  on  the  household  for  evil,  and  not 
for  good. 

Few  words  should  be  more  welcome  to  us,  therefore, 
than  the  words  in  which  He  who  is  not  ashamed  to  call 
us  brethren  affirmed  the  entire  freedom  of  his  obedience 
unto  death.  There  is,  indeed,  a  strange  power,  a  won- 
derful suggestiveness,  in  such  words  as  these:  "Therefore 
doth  my  Father  love  me,  because  I  lay  down  my  life 
that  I  may  take  it  again.  No  man  taketJi  it  from  me, 
but  I  lay  it  doivti  of  myself  I  have  pozver  to  lay  it  daivn, 
and  I  have  poiver  to  take  it  again'^  Calm  and  simple 
as  the  words  are,  what  a  tone  of  authority  breathes 
through  them  !  how  they  set  us  on  asking,  "  Who  then 
is  He  who  thus  quietly  assumes  to  be  lord  over  his  own 
life,  lord  over  even  death  itself .-'"  And  when  this  same 
thought  clothes  itself  in  the  splendid  image  of  my  text, 
we  are  still  more  deeply  impressed  by  it.  For  a  Roman 
legion,  with  its  contingent  of  cavalry,  consisted  of  some 
six  or  seven  thousand  men.  And  with  twelve  legions  of 
men  even,  i.e.^  with  some  seventy  or  eighty  thousand  dis- 
ciplined soldiers,  where  might  not  Jesus  have  gone,  what 
might  He  not  have  achieved  ?  What  power  was  there 
in  Jerusalem,  or  in  Judea,  that  could  have  resisted  Him 


A  SACRAMENTAL  HOMILY.  365 

even    for   a   moment  ?     While   with   twelve   legions   of 

angels,  what  was  there  in  Rome  itself  that  could  have 
inflicted  a  momentary  check  upon  Him?  Had  the 
mere  conquest,  or  the  mere  possession,  of  the  world 
have  been  among  his  aims,  He  did  not  need  that  the 
Prince  of  this  world  should  bestow  its  kingdoms  upon 
Him.  He  could  have  won  them  for  Himself  He  had 
but  to  lift  up  his  voice,  and  legions  of  the  celestial 
warriors,  who  "excel  in  strength,"  would  have  hearkened 
to  his  commandment  and  delighted  to  do  his  word. 

2.  When  we  hear  the  Sctfi  of  Man  utter  such  words  as 
these,  and  utter  them  in  the  very  moment  in  which  He 
was  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  men,  and  stood,  or  ap- 
peared to  stand,  a  helpless  victim,  in  their  power,  what- 
ever we  may  think  of  his  claim,  we  can  hardly  doubt 
that  He  does  claim  a  more  .than  mortal  stature.  Such 
words  would  be  intolerable  on  any  lips  but  his.  Were 
any  other  man,  however  lofty  his  stature,  however  splen- 
did his  gifts,  to  claim  this  lordship  over  life,  and  death, 
and  the  very  angels  of  God,  even  though  it  were  a 
Shakespeare,  a  Ca;sar,  or  a  Socrates,  we  should  conclude 
that  the  terrors  of  death  had  turned  his  brain,  and  that 
he  was  no  longer  responsible  for  the  words  which  fell 
from  his  lips.  There  is  a  quiet  consciousness  of  power  in 
them,  and  of  a  divine  authority  over  the  forces  of  Nature 
and  of  that  which  is  above  Nature,  which  sounds  sane 
enough  on  /iis\  ips  however,  and  which  we  do  not  feel  to 


366  THE  SELF-SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST. 

be  out  of  keeping  with  the  character  of  the  Speaker  ; 
while  yet,  if  we  accept  them  as  the  utterance  of  a  sane 
mind,  and  as  consistent  with  all  we  know  of  the 
Speaker,  absolutely  no  claim  has  ever  been  made  by 
Christ,  or  for  Him,  which  we  can  logically  resist. 

3.  But  if  there  be  this  singular  consciousness  of  Divine 
power  and  authority  in  these  words,  all  the  more 
singular  because  it  is  so  calm  and  restrained,  we  may 
also  find  in  them  an  equally  remarkable,  and  a  pathetic, 
consciousness  of  human  brotherhood.  If  Christ  here 
claims  a  power  which  He  does  not  deign  to  use.  He 
shews  a  power,  the  power  of  love,  which  touches  us  far 
more  deeply.  Even  when  He  gives  play  to  his  imagi- 
nation for  an  instant,  and  conceives  of  Himself  as 
summoning  the  heavenly  host  to  his  aid,  though  He 
does  not  mean  to  summoa  them,  it  is  not  of  Himself 
alone  that  He  thinks.  So  close  and  dear  are  his 
disciples  to  his  heart,  so  truly  has  He  become  one  with 
them,  or  made  them  one  with  Him,  that  they  are 
present,  and  occupy  an  equal  place  with  Himself,  in 
the  momentary  fancy  that  passes  through  his  mind. 
There  are  but  eleven  of  them  now  that  the  traitor  has 
gone  out  from  them,  because  he  was  not  of  them.  With 
Christ  Himself  there  are  but  twelve.  And  as — to  shew 
them  that  his  sacrifice  is  purely  voluntary — He  tells 
them  that  He  could  instantly  call  the  heavenly  host  to 
his  aid,  were  that  his  will,  and  so  save   Himself  from 


A  SACRAMENTAL  HOMILY.  367 

those  who  sought  his  life, — even  in  that  passing  concep- 
tion of  an  event  which  is  not  to  be,  lie  cannot  dissociate 
Himself  from  them.  If  He  were  to  call  the  angelic 
legions,  He  must  call  ''twelve  legions  of  angels,"  one  for 
each  of  thevi  as  well  as  one  for  Himself.  He  cannot  so 
much  as  conceive  of  Himself  as  seeking  a  security  from 
which  they  will  be  shut  out.  They  must  have  their 
share  in  every  blessing  which  comes  to  Him,  even 
though  it  be  an  imaginary  one.  He  will  not  suffer  their 
very  sins  and  failures  to  detach  them  from  Him.  They 
had  just  slept  through  his  vigil  and  agony  in  the  Garden, 
although  He  had  besought  and  commanded  them  to 
watch  with  Him.  Nevertheless  they  are  his  ;  and  if  the 
angels  should  come,  they  must  come  for  them  as  well  as 
for  Him.  They  are  about,  as  He  had  forewarned  them, 
to  forsake  Him  and  flee  every  man  to  his  own.  Never- 
theless, He  cannot  forsake  them  even  in  thought  :  to 
think  for  Himself  is,  by  a  divine  necessity,  to  think  also 
for  them. 

Are  ive  in  his  mind,  too,  and  always  in  his  mind, 
because  we  are  in  his  heart  .^  Let  us  not  doubt  it  ;  for 
has  He  not  promised  to  be  with  us  always  and  to  the 
end  of  the  world  ?  And  if  we  a?-e  always  in  his  mind 
and  heart,  so  one  with  Him  that  for  Him  to  think  of 
Himself  is  to  think  of  us,  and  to  care  for  Himself  is  to 
care  for  us  ;  if  even  our  failures  in  loyalty  and  service 
cannot  alienate  Him  from  us,  why  should  we  fret  and  be 


368  THE  SELF-SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST. 

careful  whether  for  the  life  that  now  is  or  for  that  which 
is  to  come  ? 

4.  Once  more  :  we  can  hardly  ponder  these  words 
without  being  reminded  that  the  Cross  is  more  potent 
than  the  sword,  and  love  than  legions  of  angels.  Had 
Christ  called  the  heavenly  hosts  to  his  banner,  He  would 
have  conquered  the  world  ;  but,  in  conquering.  He  might 
have  lost  the  world  :  whereas,  by  being  obedient  unto 
death.  He  has  both  saved  and  gained  the  world.  He 
took  the  better  way.  His  weakness  has  touched  and 
overcome  those  whom  mere  force  would  have  crushed  or 
repelled.  By  his  cross  He  has  "  drawn  "  those  whom 
his  sword  could  have  but  compelled  or  slain.  The 
legions  might  hav^e  made  Him  Master  of  the  world  ; 
they  could  hardly  have  made  Him  its  Saviour  and 
Friend.  That  pathetic  Figure  hanging,  for  us  men,  on 
the  accursed  tree,  is  far  more  potent  over  the  wills  of 
men  than  could  have  been  that  of  a  splendid  Warrior, 
riding  forth  to  smite  down  his  foes. 

5.  Nor,  in  weighing  the  force  and  significance  of  these 
words,  must  we  omit  to  note  that  though,  as  I  have  said, 
they  would  have  been  unbecoming  on  any  lips  but  his, 
since  they  imply  a  more  than  mortal  power,  it  was 
nevertheless  part  of  his  mission  to  put  them  into  our 
lips,  and  to  make  them  appropriate  on  our  lips  by 
making  us  partakers  of  his  Divine  nature  and  glory. 
In  so  far  as  we  are  one  with  Him,  tvc  may  feel,  we 


A  SACRAMENTAL  HOMILY.  369 

ought  to  feel,  that  the  very  angels  will  come  at  our  call  ; 
nay,  that,  without  being  called,  they  do  minister  unto 
every  heir  of  salvation,  all  the  forces  of  Heaven  and 
earth  working  together  for  our  good.  It  is  not  pre- 
sumption, but  faith  in  Him  and  in  the  Father  whom  He 
came  to  reveal,  which 'bids  us  be  sure  that  in  every 
critical  moment  of  our  lives,  and  above  all  in  every  hour 
and  power  of  darkness,  if  we  are  tempted  and  assailed 
by  forces  with  which  we  are  unable  to  cope  in  our  own 
strength,  we  are  also  sustained  by  the  still  mightier 
forces  which  do  his  pleasure  ;  and  that  nothing  can 
really  harm  us  so  long  as  we  are  followers  of  that  which 
is  good. 

As  yet,  indeed,  we  may  not  have  full,  and  conscious, 
control  of  these  Divine  forces  ;  we  cannot  hope,  we  can 
hardly  wish,  to  have  it  until  we  are  w^'ser  and  walk 
before  God  with  a  more  perfect  heart.  Christ  could  be 
trusted  with  it  because,  his  will  being  immovably  one 
with  the  will  of  the  Father,  it  was  impossible  for  Him 
to  abuse  it,  impossible  that  He  should  turn  it,  or  seek  to 
turn  it,  to  any  selfish  or  unworthy  end.  But  could  zve 
be  trusted  with  it }  Could  we  trust  ourselves  with  it } 
If  all  power  in  heaven  and  in  earth  were  offered  us, 
should  we  not  shrink  from  it  in  the  very  proportion  in 
which  we  know  ourselves,  and  know  therefore  the  amazing 
difficulty  of  using  even  what  power  we  have  aright  ? 

Before  we  can  have  the  full  and  conscious  power  of 
25 


370  THE  SELF-SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST. 

Christ,  before  we  can  wish  to  have  it,  we  must  get  the 
perfect  will  of  Christ ;  our  wills,  like  his,  must  become 
one  with  that  of  our  Father  in  heaven.  God's  ways 
must  become  our  ways,  his  thoughts  our  thoughts.  We 
must  be  animated,  we  must  be  dominated,  by  the  love 
which  moved  our  Saviour  to  offer  Himself  up  for  us  all 
that  He  might  bring  us  back  unto  God. 

6.  And  one  means,  and  a  chief  means,  of  inducing 
this  divine  temper  of  the  soul  is  that  thoughtful  and 
tender  contemplation  of  the  Sacrifice  of  Christ  to  which 
we  are  invited  so  often  as  we  come  to  the  table  of  the 
Lord.  Th'at  Sacrifice  takes  its  due  and  proper  effect 
upon  us  only  as  it  reproduces  itself  more  and  more  fully 
within  us.  The  Sacrament  which  symbolizes  and  sets 
it  forth  is  a  sacrament  to  us  only  as  it  pledges  us  to  an 
obedience  like  his,  an  obedience  unto  death,  only  as  it 
leads  us  to  a  more  sincere  and  stedfast  adoption  of  the 
will  of  God.  In  this  Sacrament  we  do  not  profess  to 
repeat  the  Sacrifice  which  was  offered  once  for  all.  We 
do  not  attempt,  whether  by  our  prayers  or  by  priestly 
incantations,  to  change  the  bread  and  wine  into  the  very 
body  and  blood  of  Christ  :  for  we  do  not  believe  that  by 
any  merely  physical  process  or  transformation  our  spirits 
can  be  made  pure  and  good. 

And  yet,  do  we  not  often  come  to  this  Sacrament  as 
if  the  mere  observance  of  it  would  do  us  good,  apart 
from  any  exercise  of  intelligence  and  will  ?     Rejecting 


A  SACRAMENTAL  HOMILY.  371 

all  theories  of  Sacramental  grace  and  Sacerdotal  autho- 
rity, do  we  not  in  some  measure  act  as  if  we  held  them 
to  be  true?  And,  on  the  otlicr  hand,  do  wc  not  some- 
times absent  ourselves  from  this  holy  Ordinance  because 
we  shrink  from  that  effort  of  will,  thought,  and  devotion, 
which  can  alone  give  it  value  ;  forgetting  that  without 
some  such  effort,  constantly  repeated,  no  man  can  work 
out  his  own  salvation  or  rise  into  that  free  obedience  to 
the  large  pure  will  of  God  which  it  is  the  chief  end  of 
religion  to  secure? 

7,  Even  if  we  come  hoping  so  to  meditate  on  the 
Sacrifice  of  Christ  as  that  it  may  raise  us  into  a  more 
obedient  and  devotional  mood,  are  we  not  apt,  in  our 
meditations  and  prayers,  to  drift  into  a  vague  stream 
of  thought  and  desire  which  fails  to  leave  any  definite 
trace  on  our  souls,  or  to  carry  an  added  fruitfulness  into 
our  lives?  Are  we  not  apt  to  slip  into  indefinite  lines 
of  thought  which  what  we  call  our  "doctrines"  have 
made  familiar  to  us,  and  to  ask  ourselves  whether  we 
believe  this  or  that,  and  so  to  carry  away  with  us  nothing 
more  than  a  confirmed  attachment  to  articles  of  belief 
which  have  but  a  slender  relation  to  our  daily  conduct, 
and  outside  of  which  there  lies  a  whole  world  of  truth 
which  we  have  never  explored  ?  Do  we  not  at  least 
know  both  those  to  whom  the  ordinances  of  public 
worship,  so  helpful  when  rightly  observed,  bring  little 
but  this  lukewarm  stream  of  vague  emotion,  which  can 


372  THE  SELF-SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST. 

never  brace  them  to  clear  thought  or  strenuous  activity  ; 
and  those  who,  as  they  observe  these  ordinances,  are  for 
ever  fingering  their  "  doctrines,"  going  the  round  of  their 
definite  but  narrow  creed,  to  the  neglect  of  practice,  till 
they  resemble  the  unskilled  musician  who  is  for  ever 
screwing  up  this  string  or  that,  but  is  never  at  leisure 
to  play  you  a  tune  ? 

8.  Clearly,  then,  if  this  ordinance  of  The  Supper  is  to 
do  us  any  real  and  lasting  good,  it  must  so  bring  the 
obedience,  the  self-sacrifice,  of  Christ  before  us  as  to 
raise  the  level  of  our  obedience,  and  to  induce  in  us  a 
more  loving  and  self-denying  temper  of  the  soul.  But 
let  us  remember  that,  even  if  we  set  this  true  aim  clearly 
before  us,  there  is  still  a  danger  of  our  being  too  vague 
and  unpractical  in  our  endeavour  to  reach  it.  We  may 
still  wait  for  some  mystical,  or  half-mystical,  touch  upon 
our  spirits,  which  may  or  may  not  come  ;  or  still  lose 
ourselves  in  a  meditation  so  general  and  diffuse  as  that 
it  will  have  no  immediate  and  elevating  effect  on  conduct 
and  life.  There  is  no  moment  in  which  we  should  be 
more  resolutely  practical  than  when  we  commemorate 
the  dying  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  For  what  is  the  great  and 
sacred  reality  which  this  Sacrament  sets  before  us  ?  It 
is  an  obedience  to  the  will  of  God  stronger  than  death. 
And  what  should  be  the  effect  of  our  contemplation 
of  this  sacred  reality  but  to  lead  us  to  similar  acts  of 
obedience,  to  help  and  induce  us  to  prefer  the  will  of 


A  SACRAMENTAL  HOMILY.  373 

God  to  our  own  wills  in  the  daily  conduct  of  our  life, 
even  though  to  accept  and  do  that  Will  should  cost  us 
much  that  we  hold  dear  ? 

9^"  Let  a  man  examine  himself,"  says  St.  Paul,  "and 
so  let  him  eat  of  this  bread  and  drink  of  this  cup,"  lest 
God  should  both  examine  and  chastise  him.  And  if  we 
are  to  examine  ourselves,  ought  we  not  to  examine  our- 
selves in  the  light  of  the  great  informing  idea  of  this 
Sacrament,  viz.,  an  obedience  rising  into  self-sacrifice  ? 
And  if  we  examine  ourselves  in  the  light  of  that  idea, 
must  we  not  put  ourselves  through  some  such  catechism 
as  this  ? 

Am  I  reaching  forth  to  an  obedience  like  that  of 
Christ,  an  obedience  to  which  the  will  of  God  is  dearer 
than  life  itself,  or  all  that  life  offers  ?  In  the  several 
provinces  and  details  of  my  life,  am  I  animated  by  a 
love  which  refuses  no  sacrifice  of  self.-*  In  so  far,  for 
instance,  as  I  am  a  citizen  and  therefore  a  politician,  do 
I  seek  the  good  of  others  as  well  as  my  own  good,  the 
welfare  of  the  country  at  large  rather  than  my  own 
advantage  or  the  advantage  of  my  own  class  .?  Do  I 
take  my  full  share  of  public  work  and  public  burdens, 
or  do  I  push  off  such  work  and  burdens  on  my  neigh- 
bours if  I  get  a  chance,  and  expect  them  to  do  what 
I  do  not  care  to  do  myself?  If  not,  how  am  /  shewing 
the  love  and  self-sacrifice  of  Him  who  loved  all  men, 
and  gave  Himself  up  both  to  and  for  them  all?     In  the 


374  THE  SELF-SACRIFICE  OF  CHRIST. 

conduct  of  my  business,  do  I  seek  to  promote  my  neigh-" 
hours'  interests  as  well  as  my  own,  the  interests  of  my 
workpeople  and  my  customers  or  the  interests  of  those 
whom  I  serve,  and  scorn  to  take  advantage  of  any  ijian's 
poverty,  or  ignorance,  or  absence,  or  helplessness  ?  If 
not,  how  am  /  fulfilling  the  law  of  Christ  ?  In  the 
Home — that  smaller  church, — and  in  the  Church — that 
larger  home, — am  I  trying  to  teach  as  well  as  to  learn, 
to  do  good  as  well  as  to  get  good,  to  shew  kindness  as 
well  as  to  receive  kindness,  to  serve  as  well  as  to  be 
served  ?  If  not,  how  dvvelleth  the  love  of  Christ  in  me  ? 
how  am  I  breathing  the  spirit  of  Him  who  came  not  to 
be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life 
a  ransom  for  the  many  ? 

It  is  as  we  examine  ourselves  thus,  my  brethren  ;  it 
is  as,  in  the  light  of  that  divine  Sacrifice,  we  look  into 
our  daily  lives,  and  confess  the  failures  and  imperfections 
of  our  obedience,  and  ask  for  the  love  which  can  alone 
conquer  our  natural  selfishness,  and  brace  ourselves  to 
serve  our  fellows,  and  bear  their  burdens,  and  help  their 
infirmities,  that  the  spirit  of  our  Master  will  enter  into 
our  spirits,  and,  sitting  at  his  table,  we  shall  cat  a 
veritable  bread  from  heaven,  and  drink  the  very  wine 
of  the  Kingdom. 


XXVII. 
CLEAVE    TO    THAT  WHICH  IS   GOOD. 
"  I'rove  all  things  ;    hold  fast  that  which  is   good."— i  TiiKS- 

S.VLONIANS   V.    21. 

The  scn.sc  in  which  this  fine  precept  is  commonly  taken 
is  not  that  in  which  it  was  originally  intended.  St.  Paul 
was  writing  to  men  into  whose  dry  and  barren  hearts 
a  quickening  spiritual  influence  had  been  poured,  which 
called  forth  latent  powers  of  life,  enriching  them  with 
many  fruits, and  clothing  the  arid  soil  with  many  flowers; 
but  which  also  called  into  poisonous  activity  many  seeds 
of  evil,  so  that  tares  sprang  up  with  the  wheat  and  weeds 
among  the  flowers.  When  they  came  together  in  Church 
every  one  of  them  "had  a  psalm,  or  a  doctrine,  or  a 
revelation,  or  a  tongue,  or  an  interpretation,"  and  was 
bent  on  exhibiting  the  strange  power,  or  gift,  of  which 
he  was  conscious.  And  they  were  prompted  to  the  use 
of  these  extraordinary  gifts  by  motives  as  various, 
motives  in  which  good  and  ill  were  as  strangely  blended, 
as  the  motives  by  which  tec  arc  prompted  to  the  exercise 
of  our  more  common  and  ordinary  endowments.     They 


376  CLE  A  VE  TO  THA  T  WHICH  IS  GOOD. 

were  not  all — perhaps  no  one  of  them  was  always — moved 
by  a  simple  desire  to  edify  the  brethren  and  glorify 
God.  They  were  moved  at  times,  as  we  are  too  often 
moved,  by  emulation,  by  vanity,  by  envy,  and  the  love 
of  strife.  There  was  much  that  was  evil,  as  well  as  much 
that  was  good,  in  the  display  of  their  spiritual  gifts,  and 
a  growing  danger  to  the  purity  and  the  peace  of  the 
Church.  Hence  St.  Paul,  while  he  counselled  them  not 
to  quench  these  motions  of  the  Spirit,  and  not  to  despise 
the  " prophesyings,"  also  commanded  them  to  "prove 
all  things,"  i.e.,  to  try  the  spirits,  to  put  their  communica- 
tions to  the  test ;  to  hold  fast  to  all  that  they  felt  to  be 
good  in  them,  but  to  abstain  from  and  abhor  whatever 
was  evil. 

Beyond  a  doubt,  this  is  the  original  sense  of  St.  Paul's 
words.  He  was  dealing  with  "  the  gifts  of  the  Spirit," 
with  the  prophetic  and  supra-natural  energies  of  the 
infant  Church ;  he  was  exhorting  his  friends  at  Thes- 
salonica  to  discriminate  between  spirit  and  spirit,  to 
follow  after  whatever  was  good  in  the  great  spiritual 
movement  of  their  age,  and  to  hold  aloof  from  whatever 
was  evil  and  injurious  in  it. 

But,  taken  in  its  original  sense,  his  exhortation  was 
only  for  the  time  being.  To  render  it  universal,  to  make 
it  applicable  to  all  times,  we  must  generalize  it;  we  must 
get  at  the  principle  which  informed  and  prompted  it. 
And,  obviously,  this   principle   is, — That  in  every  age, 


CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD.  377 

whatever  its  characteristic  spiritual  movement  and  ten- 
dency may  be,  wc  arc  to  keep  an  open,  and  yet  a  stcd- 
fast,  mind  :  we  are  to  h'sten  to  all  that  is  said  around 
us,  if  at  least  there  be  any  likelihood  and  good  sense  in 
it,  to  weigh  it  fairly,  and  not  to  despise  aught  that  is 
good  in  it  because  the  good  in  it  has  an  intermixture 
of  evil,  but  to  disentangle  the  one  from  the  other,  that 
we  may  hold  fast  that  which  is  good  and  fling  the  evil 
away. 

A  Divine  Spirit  works  in  and  through  every  age,  and 
through  the  Church  of  every  age,  to  a  foreseen  end  of 
good  :  but  this  Spirit  must  reveal  itself  through  human 
organs,  must  speak  through  human  voices,  or  how  shall 
it  reach  human  minds  and  hearts  ?  Yet  the  human 
voice  cannot  adequately  utter  the  Divine  thought  ;  no 
human  organ  can  fully  reveal  and  express  the  Divine 
Spirit.  Men,  even  though  "  filled  with  the  Spirit,"  are 
still  but  men  ;  and,  while  revealing  the  Spirit,  must  also 
reveal  themselves — reveal  even  that  which  is  faulty  and 
imperfect  in  themselves.  If  He  icw'// use  men,  therefore, 
the  Perfect  Spirit  must  submit  to  imperfection  ;  the 
absolute  and  eternal  Spirit  must  come  under  the  limita- 
tions of  time  and  sense:  his  manifestation  of  Himself 
must  be  bounded  and  tinged  by  the  medium  through 
which  it  passes  to  us.  And,  therefore,  we  should  exptrl 
to  find  imperfection  mingling  with  perfection  in  every 
revelation   of  the  Spirit,   and   evil  blending  with  good 


378  CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD. 

in  every  human  exercise  of  spiritual  power.  It  is  our 
duty,  as  it  was  that  of  the  Thcssalonians,  to  detach  the 
evil  from  the  good,  that  we  may  cleave  to  that  which 
is  good,  and  shake  from  it  the  evil  which  of  necessity 
accompanies  and  clings  to  it. 

Now  as  we  consider  this  conception  of  Christian  duty, 
if  we  must  admit  it  to  be  a  very  just  and  noble  concep- 
tion, we  cannot  but  also  confess  that  it  is  so  lofty  and 
difficult  that  we  can  hardly  hope  to  come  up  to  it.  And 
never  was  it  more  difficult  than  in  the  present  age.  For 
the  domain  of  human  knowledge  has  grown  at  once  so 
wide  and  so  full  that  even  men  of  culture  and  leisure 
cannot  master  more  than  a  mere  corner  of  it ;  while  yet 
from  every  corner  and  every  point  of  this  wide  domain 
there  come  voices  which  solicit  or  demand  our  attention  ; 
many  of  these  voices,  moreover,  contradicting  each  other, 
although  they  all  speak  in  the  most  absolute  and  authori- 
tative tones.  Human  life,  too,  has  grown  so  rapid  and 
so  complex,  we  are  exposed  to  so  many,  to  such  various, 
and  even  contrary,  influences,  our  most  familiar  concep- 
tions of  life  and  duty  are  in  so  many  cases  proving  to 
be,  like  Isaiah's  bed  and  blanket,  too  short  for  a  man  to 
stretch  himself  upon  and  too  narrow  for  a  man  to  wrap 
himself  in,  that  even  those  who  are  most  set  on  living 
by  the  law  of  God  often  feel  themselves  quite  unable 
to  prove  all  things,  and  to  hold  fast  that  which  is  good 
in  them  all. 


CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD.  379 

We  admit  the  nobility  of  the  Apostle's  ideal ;  we  feel 

that  to  keep  our  minds  open  to  all  spiritual  influences, 
while  yet  our  perception  of  truth  is  so  keen  and  our  alle- 
giance to  it  so  strict  that  we  instinctively  reject  that  in 
them  which  is  not  good,  would  be  to  reach  the  topmost 
round  of  duty,  and  to  dwell  in  an  enduring  and  unassail- 
able blessedness.  "  But,"  we  ask,  "  who  is  sufficient  for 
these  things?  We  have  neither  leisure  nor  ability  to 
entertain  all  the  great  questions  that  are  raised  and  dis- 
cussed around  us.  Nothing  is  safe  from  the  critical  and 
questioning  spirit  of  the  age.  The  very  rudiments  of 
faith  and  duty,  the  very  foundations  of  the  house  in  which 
we  would  fain  abide  in  tranquility  and  peace,  are  being 
turned  up  and  examined, — accepted  by  some,  rejected  by 
others.  Even  the  master-builders  are  hardly  agreed  about 
a  single  stone.  Arc  we  to  stand  roofless,  or  to  wander 
in  mere  occasional  and  provisional  tents,  till  their  inter- 
minable disputes  draw  to  an  end?  Are  we,  simple  and 
busy  men,  who  have  no  leisure  and  no  mind  for  such  dis- 
cussions, to  take  up  these  disputes,  to  test  all  that  the 
wise  and  learned  both  affirm  and  contradict,  and  to  decide 
for  ourselves  problems  on  which  they  have  reached  no 
decision  ?  And  if  not,  how  are  we  to  obey  St.  Paul's 
precept,  and  put  all  things  to  the  proof,  that  we  may  hold 
fast  that  which  is  good  ?" 

That  is  a  fair  question  to  ask,  a  sensible  and  practical 
question  ;  and  therefore  I  will  try  to  answer  it.     I  will 


38o  CLEA  VE  TO  THA  T  WHICH  IS  GOOD. 

try  to  shew  you  how  men  of  only  fair  natural  capacity, 
and  without  much  training  or  leisure,  may  so  cultivate 
their  judgment  and  so  order  their  lives  as  to  find  them- 
selves on  the  side  of  Truth  and  Goodness  even  in  this 
critical  and  sceptical  age. 

And,  first,  let  me  say  that  a  certain  degree  of  mental 
and  spiritual  culture  is  open  to  every  man  whose  heart  is 
set  upon  it.  The  men  who  have  done  most  even  in  the 
realm  of  Thought  have  not  been  those  whose  conditions 
were  most  happy  and  auspicious — Darwin,  for  instance, 
taught  himself  nearly  all  he  knew,  and  had  all  his  life  to 
snatch  a  few  hours  for  work  from  a  great  waste  of  pain 
and  weakness  ;  but  those  who  have  had  to  encounter 
impediments  and  vexations  of  the  most  crippling  kind. 
It  is  in  the  conflict  with  difficulties  that  the  mind  grows 
most  surely  and  most  rapidly,  just  as  the  noblest  trees 
of  the  forest  are  those  which  have  had  to  breast  the 
storm.  If  you  talk  with  any  man  who  has  attained  in- 
tellectual power  and  distinction,  nay,  if  you  talk  with  any 
cultivated  and  fine-natured  man,  you  will  find  that  his 
main  regret  is  fiot  that  his  oppotiiinities  have  been  so  few 
and  scanty,  but  that  he  has  not  made  a  better  use  of  the 
opportunities  he  has  had.  More  and  more,  as  we  grow 
older,  we  are  all  constrained  to  confess  that  it  is  not  so 
much  our  want  of  means  and  opportunities  which  is 
responsible  for  any  lack  of  knowledge,  or  wisdom,  or 
goodness,  of  which  we  arc  conscious,  as  it  is  our  neglect, 


CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD.  i%\ 

or  our  negligent  use,  of  the  means  and  opportunities 
afforded  us.  "  The  fault  is  in  us,  not  in  our  stars,  if  we 
are  underh'ngs."  Socrates  was  wise,  and  Solomon  was 
wise  ;  but  any  man  who  can  read,  and  can  get  admission 
to  a  decent  library,  has  an  easier  access  to  sound  learn- 
ing than  either  Solomon  or  Socrates  enjoyed.  "  The 
slow  sad  hours  which  bring  us  all  things  ill  "  are  also 
"  the  slow  sweet  hours  which  bring  us  all  things  good  ;" 
and  among  the  good  things  brought  us  by  the  lapse  of 
time  is  this — that  the  means  of  knowledge  and  of  mental 
culture  are  at  our  very  door,  insomuch  that,  in  so  far  as 
the  means  and  aids  to  knowledge  are  concerned,  even  the 
poorest  of  us  is  far  better  off  than  the  choicest  sages  of 
antiquity.  If  you  could  have  shut  up  Plato  or  Epictetus 
to  a  Bible  and  a  Shakespeare  merely,  would  they  have 
complained,  think  you,  that  they  had  not  the  means  of 
learning  all  that  it  most  behoves  a  man  to  know  }  and 
which  of  you  may  not  have  a  library  in  which  at  least 
these  two  books  shall  be  found  ? 

But  what  I  want  chiefly  to  point  out  to  you  is,  that  it 
is  not  mere  erudition,  mere  book-learning,  which  gives  a 
man  culture,  or  makes  him  truly  wise  :  it  is,  rather,  the 
inward  bent  which  leads  him  to  take  delight  in  just, 
vigorous,  and  beautiful  thinking.  And,  in  like  manner, 
it  is  not  a  mere  knowledge  of  duty,  however  wide  or 
exact,  which  makes  a  man  good,  but  the  inward  bent 
which  makes  him  delight  in  just,  vigorous,  and  beautiful 


382  CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD. 

conduct.  Many  a  man  has  been  wise,  and  wise  with  the 
wisdom  which  enabled  him  to  put  every  subject  that 
engaged  his  thoughts  to  the  proof,  and  to  seize  upon  all 
that  was  good  in  it,  who  has  read  but  few  books,  because 
he  had  but  ^e\v  to  read.  And  you  may  be  wise  with  this 
wisdom,  even  though  you  have  not  leisure  to  read  much. 
Of  course,  if  you  are  set  on  wisdom,  you  luill  read  good 
books  if  you  can  ;  but  if  you  can  not,  be  very  sure  of  this, 
that  you  can  do,  and  do  well,  without  them.  It  is  not 
reading,  but  thought,  and  contemplation,  and  living  in 
harmony  with  his  best  thoughts,  which  really  cultivate  a 
man  and  make  him  truly  wise.  A  habit  of  observation 
and  of  meditation  on  the  facts  of  Nature  and  of  human 
life — a  habit  of  reflection,  I  say,  is  worth  more  than  many 
books,  worth  more  than  all. 

But  you  may  plead  :  "  I  have  no  leisure  even  for 
thought,  and  very  little  capacity  for  it."  I  reply  :  Even 
leisure  is  not  indispensable  to  thought,  nor  are  those  who 
have  the  least  to  do  at  all  conspicuous  whether  for  the 
power  or  the  justness  of  their  thinking.  What  is  to  pre- 
vent you  from  reflecting  on  the  men  whom  you  meet  in 
the  course  of  your  day's  work,  on  their  likenesses  and 
differences,  on  the  ways  in  which  their  characters  are 
growing  or  hardening,  on  the  laws  by  which  their  lives 
are  governed,  and  on  the  issues  to  which  they  run. 
Above  all,  what  is  to  prevent  you,  if  you  bend  yourself 
that  way,  from  reflecting  on  yourself^  and  on  the  strange 


CLEA  VE  TO  THA  T  WHICH  IS  GOOD.  383 

problems  involved  in  your  very  being  and  life.  God  is 
with  you  every  day,  and  the  law  of  God  ;  and  if  you  look, 
you  will  see  how  both  his  law  and  his  grace  enter  into  • 
and  shape  your  life,  and  will  learn  many  a  precious  lesson 
for  your  guidance  and  instruction.  Leisure  !  Learning! 
Some  of  the  most  thoughtful  and  wisest  men  I  have 
known,  men  whose  judgment  on  any  large  moral  ques- 
tion, and  even  on  any  deep  spiritual  problem,  I  would 
rather  have  had  than  that  of  any  learned  scholar  or  meta- 
physician, have  been  among  the  busiest  of  men,  the  least 
educated  in  the  common  sense  of  that  term,  and,  let  me 
add,  the  poorest  in  this  world's  goods. 

But  the  less  leisure  you  have  for  study  or  reflection, 
and  the  less  capacity  for  it,  the  more  earnestly  would  I 
urge  you  to  lay  to  heart  a  simple  but  most  precious 
secret,  to  the  truth  and  value  of  which  I  believe  every 
thoughtful  and  experienced  man  will  bear  witness  :  via.^ 
that  true  practical  wisdom  does  not  consist  in  the  extent 
of  knowledge  a  man  possesses,  nor  in  his  power  of  re- 
producing it,  but  in  the  habitual  preference  of  higher 
thoughts  over  lower  thoughts,  of  noble  ami  generous  thoughts 
over  poor  and  selfish  thoughts.  I  am  bold  to  say  that  if  any 
of  you  will  make ///wthe  rule  of  your  life,  you  will  infallibly 
become  wise,  whatever  your  station  may  be,  and  however 
poor  and  limited  your  opportunities  :  for  it  is  this  habit 
of  cleaving  to  that  xchich  is  good  which  is  the  best  result  of 
the  highest  culture,  and  the  very  substance  of  all  wisdom. 


384  CLE  A  VE  TO  THA  T  WHICH  IS  GOOD. 

What  do  you  yourselves  mean  by  a  wise  man  if 
not  a  man  who  thinks  largely,  boldly,  nobly,  and  who 
is  thus  raised  above  all  that  is  petty  and  sordid  and 
mean  ?  In  ancient  times  a  philosopher,  or  lover  of 
wisdom,  was  one  whose  mind  was  so  set  on  the  larger 
and  loftier  ends  of  life  that  loss  and  gain,  and  all  the 
ordinary  sources  of  grief  and  pleasure,  were  as  nothing 
to  him  ;  his  kingdom  was  within  him,  beyond  the  reach 
of  outward  accidents  and  alarms.  He  was  "  lord  of  him- 
self, though  not  of  lands,  and,  having  nothing,  yet  had 
all."  And  of  all  men  the  Christian  should  be  a  philo- 
sopher in  this  sense  ;  i.e.^  he  should  be  a  man  who  thinks 
largely,  boldly,  generously  ;  a  man  whose  thoughts 
"  wander  through  eternity "  and  raise  him  above  the 
changes  and  allurements  of  time  ;  a  man  who  sees  and 
grasps  the  large  and  high  spiritual  ends  of  life  so 
strongly  that  its  outward  events  cannot  shake  him  from 
his  rest  in  them  ;  a  man  whose  kingdom  is  within  him, 
not  without,  whose  wealth  lies  in  what  he  is,  not  in  what 
he  has ;  a  man  who  is  equal  to  all  things  because  Christ 
sits  at  the  very  centre  of  his  being,  at  the  very  source 
and  fountain  of  his  life. 

Now  if  you  do,  or  should,  make  it  your  rule  to  dis- 
criminate the  good  there  is  in  all  things  and  to  hold  fast 
to  it,  consider  in  how  many  ways  it  will  affect  and  raise 
the  whole  tone  of  your  life.  As  you  pass  through  the 
\vorld  you  often  meet  with  men  who  are  nothing  if  they 


CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD.  385 


are  not  critical.     Submit  any  scheme  to  them,  and,  as  by 

instinct,  they  pass  by  all  that  is  <joocl  in  it,  to  pounce  on 
any  little  faults  they  can  detect  in  it,  or  even  \.o  pick  the 
holes  they  cannot  find.  Set  them  to  talk  of  their  nci<^h- 
bours,  and  again  it  is  not  the  good  in  them  on  which  they 
fasten,  but  the  evil — their  faults,  or  even  their  foibles  ;  so 
that  after  a  while  you  come  away  from  them  with  a  bad 
taste  in  your  mouth,  to  find  that  all  the  world  has  grown 
darker  and  baser  to  you  than  it  was.  Do  business  with 
them,  and  you  find  them  captious,  suspicious,  unreason- 
able, bent  on  getting  their  own  way  in  trifles,  always  on 
the  watch  lest  you  should  "  take  them  in,"  never  so  much 
at  ease  as  when  they  are  making  you  uneasy.  Do  you 
call  these  men  wise,  or  even  good  t  Would  you  care  to 
resemble  them,  to  share  their  carping  and  censorious 
spirit  } 

On  the  other  hand,  you  sometimes  meet  with  men  who 
take  large  and  hopeful  views  of  their  fellows  and  of 
human  life  ;  men  who  put  a  generous  construction  on 
the  conduct  and  the  motives  of  their  neighbours,  who 
find  much  to  admire  in  them,  if  also  somewhat  to  regret  ; 
men  who  habitually  dwell  in  a  high  and  wide  region  of 
thought  in  which  the  petty  cares  and  vexations  of  life 
have  little  power  :  and  these  are  the  men  whom  you  call 
wise  and  good  :  these  are  they  whom  you  ivould  like  to 
resemble,  whose  spirit  you  would  be  glad  to  share. 

You  may  be  like  them.    Christ  came  to  make  you  like 
26 


386  CLEA  VE  TO  THA  T  WHICH  IS  GOOD. 

them,  by  giving  you  large  themes  for  thought,  large  hopes 
for  men,  large  interests  in  the  upper  world,  large  measures 
of  his  own  large  and  kindly  spirit.  And  the  test  to  which 
you  are  daily  put  is  this  : — Do  you,  who  profess  to  have 
taken  Christ  for  your  Teacher  and  Lord,  habitually 
fasten  on  that  which  is  high  and  large  and  noble  in  the 
subjects  of  which  you  think  and  speak,  or  on  that  which 
is  low  and  gross,  small  and  mean  ?  Has  that  which  is 
good  in  all  things  a  stronger  and  more  constant  attrac- 
tion for  you  than  that  which  is  not  good  ?  Are  you 
learning  to  see  a  soul  of  goodness  even  in  all  things  ill, 
and  to  love  it  ;  or  do  you  see  first  and  more  habitually 
the  evil  which  thwarts  or  impedes  it  ?  Every  subject  of 
thought  has  a  higher  and  a  lower  aspect,  a  broader  and 
a  narrower  handle.  Do  you  take  hold  of  it  on  its  broader 
or  its  narrower  side  ^  Do  you  regard  it  in  its  higher 
aspect  or  its  lower  ? 

One  constantly  encounters  men  who,  start  what  topic 
you  will,  instantly  plunge  into  its  more  trivial  and  super- 
ficial details,  and  are  so  absorbed  in  these  that  they  lose 
sight  of  its  larger  outlines,  its  more  generous  features,  its 
quickening  and  informing  spirit.  Are  you  of  these  .?  If 
you  are,  there  is  no  hope  of  your  attaining  wisdom,  or  a 
goodness  worthy  of  the  name,  till  you  change  your  habit 
of  thought  and  your  point  of  view.  The  way  to  grow 
wise,  and  to  make  men  wise  and  good,  is  to  form  a  habit, 
when  two  different  aspects  of  a  subject  are  before  us,  of 


CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD.  38? 

seizing  on  that  which  is  the  higher,  the  more  inward  and 
essential,  and  of  cleaving  to  this.  The  way  to  grow  wise 
and  good,  and  to  make  men  so,  is,  when  two  different 
views  of  a  neighbour's  character  and  motives  are  possible, 
to  take  that  which  shews  him  at  his  best.  To  love  to 
dwell  among  great,  generous,  kindly  thoughts  is  the  true 
road  to  wisdom,  let  wits  and  cynics  sneer  as  they  will  ; 
and  this  is  a  road  which  any  man  may  take,  however 
little  he  may  have  read,  however  scanty  his  leisure. 

In  like  manner,  just  as  wisdom  lies  in  a  love  of  lofty 
noble,  and  generous  thoughts,  so  goodness  lies  in  the 
love  and  pursuit  of  large,  noble,  and  generous  actions. 
As  a  practical  rule  for  a  Christian  man  bent. on  bringing 
his  life  into  harmony  with  the  pure  and  kindly  will  of 
God,  I  know  none  better  than  this  :  When  several  lines 
of  conduct  arc  open  to  him,  let  him  take  the  highest,  the 
least  selfish,  the  most  difficult  to  mere  flesh  and  blood  ; 
let  him,  to  use  St.  Paul's  wording  of  this  rule,  walk  after 
the  spirit,  and  not  after  the  flesh.  For  example,  I  may 
either  requite  a  man  for  the  wrong  he  has  done  me  by 
injuring  and  humiliating  him,  or  I  may  do  him  a  kind- 
ness of  which  he  will  never  know.  Which  course  ought 
I  to  take— the  higher  or  the  lower  .?  In  the  manage- 
ment of  my  business  I  may  so  determine  a  doubtful 
point  as  to  get  a  little  gain  for  myself,  or  to  pass  it  on 
to  my  workpeople  or  to  my  customers.  Which  course 
ought  I  to  take  if  I  am  bent  on  being  wise  and  good — 


388  CLEAVE  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  GOOD. 

the  higher  or  the  lower?  I  have  fallen  into  penury 
when  I  might  fairly  have  expected  the  comforts  of 
competence  ;  and  of  course  I  may  either  sink  into  a 
peevish,  querulous,  suspicious  temper,  or  I  may  turn  so 
brave  and  bright  a  face  on  misfortune  as  to  smooth 
away  the  terrors  of  its  frown.  Or  I  have  to  endure  a 
great  sorrow,  and  I  may  either  suffer  it  to  depress  me 
into  a  gloomy  and  repining  mood  which  will  make  me  a 
burden  to  myself  and  to  all  about  me,  or  I  may  confront 
it  with  a  constancy  and  patience  which  will  rob  it  of  its 
sting.  Which  of  these  two  courses  ought  I  to  take — the 
higher  or  the  lower  ?  Obviously,  if  I  would  either  prove 
myself  to  be,  or  put  myself  in  the  way  of  becoming,  a 
wise  and  good  man,  I  must,  in  all  these  cases  and  in  all 
similar  cases,  take  the  higher  path  and  keep  it. 

To  see  the  good  there  is  in  all  things,  and  to  hold 
fast  by  it,  is  therefore  a  sufficiently  practical,  as  it  is  a 
wholly  Christian,  rule  of  life.  Let  us  walk  by  it,  then, 
that  we  may  become  wise  and  good  after  the  pattern 
and  example  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  For,  surely, 
nothing  in  the  daily  conduct  of  his  life  is  more  obvious 
and  notable  than  the  eagerness  with  which,  while  proving 
all  things  and  all  men.  He  habitually  fastened  on  that 
which  was  good  in  them,  and  quickened  it  into  new 
vigour  and  comeliness.  May  his  Spirit  so  dwell  in  us 
that  we  shall  follow  his  example,  and  tread  in  his  steps. 


XXVIII. 

ABHOR    THAT    WHICH  IS   EVIL. 

"Abstain  from  every  form  of  evil." — i  Thessalonians  v.  22. 

"  AnsTAIN  from  all  appearance  of  evil,"  says  the  Autho- 
rized Version  :  and  more  than  once  when  we  have  read 
this  Chapter  together  I  have  paused  to  tell  you,  what 
the  Revised  Version  tells  you  now,  that  the  true  render- 
ing of  the  Greek  is  not  "  Abstain  from  all  appearance" 
but  "  abstain  from  every  form,  every  species,  of  evil." 
And  when  once  this  necessary  alteration  is  pointed  out 
to  us,  it  instantly  commends  itself  to  our  common  sense  ; 
while  the  more  we  reflect  upon  it,  the  more  it  commends 
itself  to  us.  "  Why,  of  course,"  we  say,  "  taken  so,  the 
whole  passage  hangs  together.  The  holy  Apostle  bids 
us  prove  all  things,  that  we  may  know  whether  they  are 
good  or  bad,  and  then,  when  wc  have  proved  them  and 
found  out  what  they  are,  he  bids  us  hold  fast  to  every 
thing  that  is  good,  and  fling  away  everything  that  is 
bad."  We  say  :  "  Why,  of  course,  neither  the  true  man 
nor  the  true  Christian  must  concern  himself  about  mere 


390  ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL. 

semblances  and  the  shows  of  things  ;  his  main  concern 
must  be  about  realities.  He  must  often  be  content  to 
look  like  a  fool  if  he  would  be  really  wise  ;  like  a 
coward,  if  he  would  be  really  brave;  like  a  sinner,  if  he 
would  be  really  good  ;  like  a  traitor,  if  he  would  be 
really  loyal."  We  say  :  "  Why,  of  course  ;  the  best  men 
have  not  always  been  accounted  the  best,  nor  the  wisest 
the  wisest.  Often  they  have  been  everywhere  spoken 
against — denounced  as  fools  because  they  were  too  wise 
for  their  time ;  as  liars,  or  as  heretics  who  believed  a 
lie,  because  they  saw  more  truth  than  their  neighbours, 
or  were  more  devoted  to  it  and  would  speak  it  out  ;  as 
sinners  above  all  men,  because  they  would  live  by  a 
higher  law."  And,  finally,  we  say  :  "  Why,  of  course  ; 
St.  Paul  was  himself  the  very  last  man  to  square  either 
his  thoughts  or  his  life  by  the  shows,  the  semblances,  of 
things.  So  far  from  fearing  the  appearance  of  evil,  he 
so  utterly  disregarded  it  that  he  was  pursued  through 
his  whole  career  by  men  who  charged  him  with  dis- 
loyalty to  God,  to  the  creed  and  covenant  of  his  fathers, 
to  the  very  blood  that  ran  in  his  veins  ;  charged  him 
with  disloyalty  to  the  Roman  Empire  and  religion  as 
well  as  to  the  Jewish  religion  and  race  ;  nay,  with  dis- 
loyalty to  Christ  Himself,  to  the  Church  He  had  founded, 
the  truths  He  had  taught,  the  apostles  who  had  '  com- 
panied '  with  Him  from  the  beginning." 

St.  Paul  was  a  man  who  kept  his  mind  open  to  new 


ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL.  391 

and  larger  views  of  truth,  and  who  could  insist  on  them 
when  to  insist  on  them  was  to  incur  the  suspicion  and 
hatred  both  of  Jew  and  of  Christian,  both  of  his  brethren 
after  the  flesh  and  his  brethren  after  the  spirit  ;  as  when, 
for  example, he  maintained  that  circumcision  was  nothinj:^ 
in  the  teeth  of  the  Church  as  well  as  the  Synagogue.  He 
was  a  man  so  loyal  to  the  truth  that  he  could  endure 
the  charge  which  seems  to  drive  many  brave  and 
thoughtful  men  out  of  all  composure — the  charge  of 
being  inconsistent  with  himself,  and  even  glory  that 
what  he  once  accounted  gain  he  now  knew  to  be  loss. 
He  was  a  man  who,  so  far  from  compromising  his  con- 
victions in  the  desire  to  follow  a  "  safe  "  course,  took 
what  all  who  were  in  the  Church  before  him  held  to  be 
an  unprecedented  and  most  dangerous  course  from  the 
moment  he  entered  on  the  practical  labours  of  his 
Apostleship  ;  and  it  was  by  taking  this  dangerous 
course  that  he  flung  open  the  gates  of  the  kingdom 
of  God  to  the  whole  Gentile  world.  He  was  a  man 
who  could  confront  a  difficult  and  unwelcome  dutj- 
without  flinching,  and  rebuke  a  brother  Apostle  to  his 
face,  publicly  charging  him,  if  need  were,  with  "  hypo- 
crisy," as  he  charged  St.  Peter  at  the  famous  council  of 
Antioch.  He  was  a  man  who,  against  the  opposition  of 
his  most  beloved  fellow-labourers,  could  insist  on  putting 
the  right  man  in  the  right  place,  as  when,  in  his  sharp 
contention  with   Barnabas,  he  said,  "  No,  not  ]\Iark,  but 


392  ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL. 

Silas,  is  the  right  man  to  be  our  colleague,"  and  actually- 
separated  himself  from  his  old  comrade  rather  than  give 
way,  though  he  owed  Barnabas  much  and  loved  him 
much. 

It  was  impossible  that  such  a  man  as  this,  who  moved 
through  the  world  and  the  Church  in  a  cloiid  of  distrust, 
suspicion,  hostility  ;  it  was  impossible  that  a  man  who, 
as  he  himself  complains,  was  deemed  the  very  "  filth  of 
the  earth  "  and  "  the  offscouring  of  all  things,"  should 
have  admonished  us  to  avoid  the  mere  appearance  of 
evil.  He  himself  constantly  appeared  to  do  evil — that 
which  even  the  good  men  of  his  time  denounced  as  evil  ; 
and  every  man  who  faithfully  follows  Christ  must  risk — 
as  who  knew  better  than  he  ? — the  appearance  and  the 
charge  of  evil  in  order  that  he  may  avoid  its  reality. 

So  we  argue,  so  we  conclude,  when  we  reflect  on  St. 
Paul's  words,  blaming  ourselves  that  we  should  ever 
have  read  them  in  a  sense  so  alien  to  the  spirit  of  the 
man.  And  yet,  though  St.  Paul's  meaning  is  so  obvious 
and  so  unquestionable  when  we  come  to  look  into  it,  how 
often  have  we  had  this  Verse  thrown  into  our  teeth  in 
its  inaccurate  and  mistranslated  form  !  how  often  have 
we  been  silenced  by  it,  though  not  convinced  !  There 
can  be  but  few  of  us  who  have  not  been  choked  off  by  it 
from  some  good  or  innocent  course,  at  least  when  we 
were  young  and  had  not  acquired  the  habit  of  reading 
and    interpreting  the  Bible   for  ourselves.      When,  for 


ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL.  393 

example,  certain  questions  of  what  amusements  are 
lawful  or  unlawful  were  in  the  wind,  which  of  us  has 
not  heard  the  warning  ? — "  Yes,  this  or  that  may  be 
innocent  enough  in  itself;  but  then,  you  sec,  it  has  a  bad 
name,  and  if  }-ou  were  to  indulge  in  it,  it  would  have  a 
biid  look  ;  and,  you  know,  we  are  commanded  to  avoid 
the  very  appearance  of  evil."  When  certain  new  forms 
of  Christian  doctrine  were  being  discussed,  which  of  us 
has  not  had  to  listen  to  the  advice  ? — "  It  may  be  true  ; 
I  dare  say  it  is  ;  but  I  would  not  teach  it  if  I  were  you  : 
it  is  dangerous  doctrine,  and  might  easily  be  perverted 
or  misconstrued."  Which  of  us  has  not  received  some 
such  advice  as  this,  and  found  some  sober,  if  not 
frowning,  brow  to  approve  and  bless  it  with  the  text 
which  St.  Paul  never  wrote  and  never  could  ha\c 
written  ?  When  questions  of  character  and  conduct 
were  being  discussed,  and  the  sins  of  good  men,  or  of 
men  professedly  good,  were  being  held  up  for  censure, 
w  hich  of  us  has  not  been  warned  ? — "  Hush,  don't  speak 
so  loud  !  It  is  all  very  sad  and  very  wrong,  but  it  does 
harm  to  have  these  things  known  ;  it  makes  a  scandal 
and  brings  a  stain  on  the  holy  name  of  Religion."  And 
then  the  Verse  which  St.  Paul  did  not  write  has  been 
quoted  again  ;  and  we  perhaps  have  held  our  peace,  and 
have  ourselves  been  condemned  by  the  world  as  partakers 
in  the  sins  we  were  not  honest  enough  to  denounce.  So, 
once  more,  when   men    were   being  chosen  to  posts  of 


394  ABHOR  THA  T  WHICH  IS  EVIL. 

honour  and  of  service,  whether  in  the  Church  or  out  of 
the  Church,  which  of  us  has  not  been  driven  from  voting 
for  the  men  we  thought  best  and  most  competent  by 
the  plea  that  it  would  not  look  well  ;  that  the  man  we 
preferred  was  not  sound  in  his  religious  views,  or  that 
he  was  not  of  our  faction,  or  that  his  social  position  was 
not  sufficiently  good,  or  that  he  was  not  acceptable  to 
this  influential  person  or  that  ;  that  to  make  a  stand  for 
him  might  cause  division  and  strife,  or  bring  our  motives 
into  suspicion,  or  occasion  us  some  loss  of  help  or  favour 
which  we  could  ill  afford  to  bear  ?  Which  of  us  has  not 
been  urged  to  yield,  or  at  least  to  refrain,  by  the  sup- 
posed authority  of  St,  Paul  as  conveyed  in  this  mis- 
translated Verse — St.  Paul  who  broke  with  the  beloved 
Barnabas  rather  than  suffer  the  faithless  or  fearful  Mark 
to  be  elected  a  minister  and  representative  of  the 
Church  ! 

As  yet,  however,  I  have  only  spoken  of  the  past,  when 
we  and  all  the  world  were  young.  I  have  spoken  only 
of  men  who  used  to  give  this  kind  of  advice,  and  to 
support  it  with  a  text  the  Apostle  never  wrote,  though 
they  honestly  thought  he  wrote  it.  But  I  cannot  add — 
I  wish  I  could  add — that  this  breed  of  men  has  quite 
died  out,  and  that  we  never  hear  such  advice  now.  \Vc 
hear  it  far  too  often.  There  are  only  too  many  advocates 
of  safe  and  respectable  courses,  of  timid  choices  and 
cowardly  compromises  in  which  principles  arc  tampered 


ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL.  395 

with,  and  the  claims  of  truth  and  righteousness  are  sub- 
ordinated to  the  demands,  or  supposed  demands,  of 
expediency.  There  are  still  too  many  among  us— and 
they  are  to  be  as  often  found  inside  the  Church  as  out- 
side of  it — who  are  more  afraid  of  the  appearance  of  evil 
than  of  evil  itself,  and  who  often  mistake  for  evil  that 
which  is  good.  These  are  they  who,  on  the  theoretical 
side,  assume  reason  to  be  the  enemy  of  faith,  and  science 
the  enemy  of  religion  ;  and  who,  on  the  practical  side, 
love  safety  more  than  duty,  deem  that  the  end  justifies 
the  means,  and  take  success  to  imply  the  favour  and 
blessing  of  God.  New  and  larger  convictions  are  unwel- 
come to  them,  if  they  are  unpopular ;  the  principles  of 
the  New  Testament  must  not  be  too  closely  pressed  in 
practice  :  true  doctrines  may  be  dangerous  doctrines, 
they  think,  and  ought  not  to  be  taught :  the  errors  and 
sins  of  the  good  should  be  hushed  up  to  avoid  scandal, 
strife  and  division  are  to  be  averted  even  at  the  cost  of 
justice,  and  honesty,  and  honour.  Their  gravest  concern 
is  for  reputation,  for  consistency,  for  the  success  of  any 
cause  in  which  they  are  engaged.  They  dread  lest  evil 
should  somehow  come  of  good.  They  doubt  lest  truth 
herself  should  prove  to  be  a  liar.  They  will  not  suffer 
things  to  take  their  rightful  and  natural  course,  but  want 
to  play  providence  to  Providence  itself.  Unconscious  as 
they  are  of  the  presumption,  they  nevertheless  act  and 
talk  as  if  they  suspected  that  Almighty  God  could  not 


396  ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL. 

take  care  of  Himself  without  their  help  ;  as  if  the  very 
heavens  would  fall  if  tJicy  did  not  prop  them  up ! 

But  why  should  I  labour  to  describe  them  ?  You 
know  the  type  I  have  in  view  only  too  well ;  and  if  you 
are  true  men,  you  have  had  to  strive  and  contend  against 
them  and  their  influence.  For,  instead  of  being  followers 
and  disciples  of  Paul,  as  he  was  of  Christ,  they  are  his 
ethical  opposites  :  instead  of  obeying  his  precept,  they 
are  openly  and  flagrantly  disobeying  it ;  since  what  he 
here  urges  upon  us  is  that  we  prove  all  things,  all  that 
comes  to  us  in  the  form  of  truth,  or  duty,  or  pleasure, 
and  then  cleave  to  that  we  find  to  be  good  in  it,  how- 
ever bad  it  may  look,  however  difficult  or  dangerous  it 
may  be,  while  we  fling  away  all  that  we  see  to  be  evil 
in  it,  however  alluring  it  may  be,  however  safe  and  easy 
it  may  seem.  To  St.  Paul,  the  highest  truth  was  the 
highest  safety,  and  to  do  right  in  scorn  of  consequence 
the  daily  and  ingrained  habit  of  his  life.  And  he  would 
have  us  think  as  he  thought,  and  do  as  he  did. 

Look  at  this  much-abused  precept  once  more,  then,  and 
mark  how  it  bears  upon  our  duty  and  conduct.  When 
we  hear  St.  Paul's  true  voice,  and  find  him  saying, 
"  Abstain  from  every  species  of  evil  ;  recoil  from  evil 
in  every  form"  we  can  hardly  fail  to  be  reminded  that 
there  are  many  of  us,  or  many  among  us,  who  do  care- 
fully avoid  some  forms  of  evil,  but  not  all  ;  many  who 
do  not  even    seriously  set    themselves    against  certain 


ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL.  397 


forms  of  evil,  liardly  feci  indeed  tiiat  they  are  evil:  many 
of  whom  that  old  couplet  is  true  which  speaks  of  men 
who  "  compound  for  sins  they  are  inclined  to,  by 
damning  those  they  have  no  mind  to."  And,  gene- 
rally speaking,  the  sins  which,  on  the  one  hand,  they 
condemn,  and  the  sins  which,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
do  not  practically  recognize  as  sins,  may  be  divided  into 
these  three  classes  : — 

(i)  They  condemn  and  renounce  common  sins,  sins 
of  the  flesh,  for  instance,  the  sins  which  everybody  con- 
demns, while  they  too  often  allow  themselves  in  the 
more  penetrating,  inveterate,  and  fatal  sins  of  the  spirit 
— such  sins,  for  example,  as  selfishness,  a  too  great 
deference  to  the  world  and  the  world's  law,  ill-temper, 
or  a  melancholy,  hopeless,  and  dejected  spirit.  And 
yet,  I  suppose  that,  on  the  whole,  more  misery  is  caused 
by  ill-temper  than  by  murder,  by  a  stooping  and  melan- 
choly spirit  than  by  theft ;  and  that  more  noble  natures 
are  ruined  by  selfishness  and  a  creeping  worldliness  than 
by  drunkenness  even  or  lasciviousness. 

Or  (2)  they  condemn  what  they  hold  to  be  great  sins, 
and  allow  themselves  in  what  they  hold  to  be  little  sins. 
Unbelief,  heresy,  impurity,  with  all  the  sins  forbidden  by 
the  Decalogue,  offer  few  temptations  to  them  ;  but  the 
trivial  and  sneaking  sins,  which  often  steal  away  a  man's 
soul  or  ever  he  is  aware — such  sins  as  meanness,  cen- 
soriousness,  unforgivingness,  conceit,  pushing  for  the  best 


39S  ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL. 

place  and  the  biggest  dish  and  the  fullest  purse — they 
hardly  take  for  sins  at  all,  and  therefore  do  not  make 
any  serious  stand  against  them  ;  although  it  is  often 
these  mean,  petty,  and  only  half-suspected  forms  of  evil 
which  work  them  the  most  harm,  and  do  most  to  corrupt 
the  world. 

Or  (3)  it  is  the  sins  alien  to  their  own  temperament 
which  they  condemn,  and  the  sins  congenial  to  it  which 
they  allow.  Silent  and  reserved  people,  for  instance,  are 
apt  to  be  hard  on  all  sins  of  the  tongue  ;  sweet-natured 
people  on  all  faults  of  temper ;  thoughtful  and  ex- 
perienced people  on  all  the  sins  of  youth  and  inex- 
perience ;  while  they  may  be  very  lenient  to  the  defects 
of  their  own  qualities ;  the  silent,  to  sins  of  gloominess  and 
ungeniality  ;  the  good-tempered,  to  the  sins,  or  at  least 
the  dangers,  of  good-fellowship  and  light-heartedness  ; 
the  aged  and  experienced,  to  the  sins  of  avarice  and 
suspicion,  or  of  any  other  evil  habit  to  which  they  are 
liable. 

In  these,  and  in  many  similar  ways,  we  are  all  in 
danger  of  disobeying  St.  Paul's  precept,  "  Avoid  evil  in 
every  form."  On  these  weak  points,  therefore,  let  us  be 
on  our  guard,  let  us  mount  a  special  guard.  For,  of 
course,  if  we  are  wise,  if  we  are  bent  on  bringing  our 
whole  life  under  law  to  God,  it  is  just  at  the  points  of 
danger  that  we  shall  keep  a  more  vigilant  watch.  Instead 
of  being  loud  in  condemnation  of  sins  we  have  no  mind 


ABHOR  THAT  WHICH  IS  EVIL.  '  399 


to,  we  shall  most  severely  condemn  the  sins  to  which 
we  are  inclined,  and  set  ourselves  most  resolutely  against 
them.  Instead  of  biddinij  the  sentinels  of  the  soul  stop 
the  big  sins,  the  gross  sins,  from  which  every  honest  con- 
science recoils,  and  which  therefore  they  are  not  likely 
to  let  pass,  we  shall  be  urgent  with  them  to  warn  us  of 
the  little  sins  which  it  is  only  too  easy  to  overlook,  and 
the  common  sins  which,  as  they  have  too  often  found 
admittance  already,  are  sure  to  seek  admittance  again, 
and,  as  familiar  visitors,  arc  only  too  likely  to  escape 
arrest.  While,  if  we  have  learned  in  some  good  measure 
to  keep  the  body  under,  in  place  of  bending  our  main 
strength  against  the  conquered  sins  of  sense,  let  us  watch 
and  strive  and  pray  against  those  more  subtle  sins  by 
which  our  spirits  are  beset  ;  let  us  seek  to  attain  a  con- 
fidence in  truth  which  will  not  suffer  us  to  suspect  that 
any  form  of  truth  can  be  dangerous  :  a  faith  in  right 
and  duty  which  will  compel  us  to  follow  them  at  all  risks 
and  costs  ;  and  a  trust  in  God  which  will  not  permit  us 
to  doubt  that  the  world  will  be  well  ruled  so  long  as  He 
sits  on  the  throne  without  any  surreptitious  help  of  ours; 
a  trust  which  will  not  permit  us  to  think  that  we  can 
aid  either  God  or  the  world  by  being  untrue  to  our  con- 
victions, or  by  subordinating  the  claims  of  plain  honesty 
to  the  demands  of  that  ignoble  expediency  in  whose 
name  so  many  sins  have  been  wrought. 


XXIX.  , 

MOTIVES. 

"  How  many  hired  servants  of  my  father's  have  bread  enough 
and  to  spare,  and  I  perish  with  hunger.  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my 
father." 

"  Lo,  these  many  years  do  I  serve  thee,  never  transgressing  any 
of  thy  commandments  ;  yet  thou  never  gavest  me  a  kid  that  I 
might  make  merry  with  my  friends ;  but  when  this  thy  son  came, 
who  hath  devoured  thy  living  with  harlots,  thou  killedst  for  him 
the  fatted  calf." — Luke  xv.  17,  18  ;  29,  30. 

When  we  read,  and  even  when  we  speak  of,  this 
Parable,  we  are  commonly,  and  naturally,  so  occupied 
with  its  main  feature  as  to  pass  lightly  over  its  minor 
details.  It  is  the  wonderful  love  of  the  father  for  his 
children  which  engrosses  our  attention — his  inalienable, 
ineffable,  all-forgiving  love,  whether  for  his  penitent,  or 
his  impenitent,  though  not  less  sinful,  son. 

Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world,  as  He  Himself 
declares,  to  skezv  us  the  Father;  to  convince  and  persuade 
us  that  He  is  our  Father  whom  men  had  so  miscon- 
ceived as  to  hold  Him  in  perpetual  dread,  as  to  mistake 
the  chastenings  and  rebukes  of  his  love  for  the  severities 


MOTIVES.  40 1 


of  a  burning  and  well-nigh  inappcasable  anger.  And 
never  did  He  reveal  the  Father  in  words  more  touching, 
or  that  came  home  to  the  human  heart  with  a  swifter 
and  more  direct  flight,  thar^  when  He  spoke  this  Parable. 
Knowing  the  intention,  the  meaning,  of  the  Story, 
and  craving  above  all  things  to  be  informed  and  assured 
of  God's  real  attitude  toward  us,  it  is  natural  that  the 
bearing  of  the  Father  should  absorb  our  attention,  and 
that  we  should  pay  comparatively  little  heed  to  his 
unworthy  sons,  and  to  the  motives  by  which  they  were 
impelled,  "  If  God  be  our  Father,"  we  say,  "  and  our 
Father  is  like  that,  O  fools  and  blind  that  we  have  been 
to  sin  against  a  love  so  pure  and  deep,  to  distrust  Him, 
to  wander  from  Him  !  Let  us  arise,  and  go  to  Him, 
and  say,  Father,  we  have  sinned  against  Thee  ;  but  we 
did  not  know  Thee ;  we  could  not  believe  that  any  one 
loved  us  so  tenderly  and  forgivingly,  or  that  we  were 
worthy  of  such  a  love.  Pardon  us  ;  receive  us  ;  restore 
us  :  suffer  us  to  abide  with  Thee  as  servants,  if  wc  may 
no  longer  be  sons." 

•  But  though  it  is  very  natural  that  we  should  be  so 
preoccupied  with  the  Father's  love  as  to  pay  little  atten- 
tion to  the  sordid  and  selfish  motives  which  brought  the 
Prodigal  home,  and  which  kept  his  brother  from  leaving 
home,  we  lose  much  by  passing  them  over  so  lightly, 
lose,  above  all,  that  full  and  complete  conception  of  the 
Father's  love  which  might  carry  comfort  to  our  hearts 
27 


402  MOTIVES. 


in  some  of  our  most  common,  our  saddest  and  most 
depressed,  moods. 

For  nothing  is  more  common,  even  in  the  Church,  I 
suppose,  than  that  rooted  distrust  of  the  love  of  God 
which  may  spring  in  part  from  the  theological  concep- 
tions in  which  we  were  bred,  but  which,  if  we  may  trust 
the  great  religious  writings  and  poems  of  all  races  and 
all  ages,  is  for  the  most  part  an  instinct  of  our  very 
blood,  and  dates  perhaps  from  the  Fall.  Though  Christ 
has  shewn  us  the  Father,  and  though  we  daily  pray 
to  our  Father  m  heaven,  pray  i.e.  to  a  God  who  is  as 
much  better  than  the  best  human  father  as  the  heavens 
are  high  above  the  earth,  yet  even  good  men,  even 
the  most  sincerely  religious  men  among  us,  find  it  well- 
nigh  impossible  to  shake  off  that  base  fear  of  Him  which 
breeds  both  torment  and  bondage. 

Nay,  even  that  is,  I  am  afraid,  a  very  partial  and 
inadequate  statement  of  the  actual  fact.  The  actual 
fact  is,  I  believe,  that,  however  broad  our  creed,  and 
however  large  the  hopes  we  entertain  for  others,  we 
cherish  a  distrust  of  ourselves  so  ingrained  and  profound 
that  we  cannot,  except  in  rare  and  fugitive  moods, 
persuade  ourselves  that  God  really  loves  us  with  a  love 
which  can  never  change,  never  relax  its  hold  upon  us, 
never  suffer  us  to  fall  away  from  Him.  Our  very  religion 
is  apt  to  be  austere,  pensive,  melancholy.  The  tone  of 
our  very  prayers — in  which  we  are  for  ever  asking  for- 


MOTIVES.  403 


giveness  as  of  One  who  finds  it  hard  to  forgive,  and 
deprecating  an  anger  which  we  feel  that  we  deserve — 
convicts  us  of  a  fearful  looking-for  of  judgment  long 
after  we  profess  to  have  found  salvation.  To  most  of 
us — perhaps  to  all  of  us  in  most  of  our  moods — the 
Gospel  itself  is  far  from  being  "glad  tidings  of  great 
joy;"  instead  of  inspiring  us  with  courage,  with  a  large 
and  generous  hopefulness,  a  pure  and  elevating  gladness, 
it  would  seem  to  offer  us  little  more  than  a  somewhat 
dubious  chance  of  salvation,  if  our  temptations  should 
not  prove  to  be  too  strong  or  our  flesh  too  weak.  We 
inspect  and  analyze  our  motives,  the  motives  which  led 
us  to  close  with  the  invitations  of  the  Gospel,  or  which 
retain  us,  if  we  are  retained,  in  the  service  of  God,  till 
we  doubt  and  suspect  them,  and  cannot  be  sure  that 
we  entered  by  the  straight  gate  and  are  walking  in  the 
right  way.  In  our  acts  of  public  worship  it  is  only  too 
easy  to  strike  too  high  a  note,  or  at  least  a  note  in 
which  many  can  join  only  with  a  hesitating  and  tremb- 
ling heart.  If,  for  example,  we  are  asked  to  sing  the 
hymn  beginning  with  the  verse. 

My  God,  I  love  Thee,  not  because 

I  hope  for  heaven  thereby  ; 
Nor  yet  because  who  love  Thee  not 

Are  lost  eternally  : 

or  that  other  In-mn,  beautiful  and  beloved  though  it  be, 
which  opens  thus — 


404  MOTIVES. 


Dismiss  me  not  Thy  service,  Lord, 

But  train  me  for  Thy  will ; 
For  even  I,  in  fields  so  broad, 

Some  duties  may  fulfil  : 
And  I  will  ask  for  no  reward 

Except  to  serve  Thee  still, 

those  of  us  who  "  breathe  thoughtful  breath  "  often  falter 
and  hesitate  in  our  response,  and  question  our  right  to 
take  such  words  upon  our  lips. 

And  there  is  such  grave  room  for  doubt,  we  so  habi- 
tually fall  short  even  of  our  own  poor  and  imperfect 
ideals,  sincerity  is  so  precious,  reverence  and  awe  are  so 
essential  to  our  spiritual  health,  that  if  a  Preacher  set 
himself  to  encourage  weak  and  fainting  souls  by  shewing 
how  little  God  will  accept  of  them,  what  low  and  un- 
worthy motives  He  will  deign  to  use  for  our  good, 
drawing  us  to  Himself  by  the  most  slender  and  brittle 
cords,  he  cannot  but  fear  lest,  while  giving  courage  and 
hope  to  the  timid  and  self-distrustful,  he  should  mislead 
and  injure  as  many  as  are  too  easily  satisfied  with  them- 
selves, and  make  those  bold  and  presumptuous  who 
need  to  be  taught  diffidence  and  self-distrust.  But  the 
risk  must  sometimes  be  run  :  I  must  run  it  this  morning 
if  I  am  to  be  true  to  the  promptings  and  suggestions  of 
my  text,  though  I  will  do  my  best  to  minimize  it. 

I.  Understand,  then,  that  for  the  present  I  am  ad- 
dressing myself  solely  to  the  diffident  and  self-distrustful, 
to  those  who  cannot  be  sure  that  they  have  "  believed 


MOTIVES.  405 


unto  salvation,"  or  that  they  are  actuated  by  worthy 
motives  in  their  daily  endeavour  to  trust  the  promises 
and  keep  the  commandments  of  God,  or  that  they  can 
render  Him  any  service  which  He  will  accept  ;  to  those 
who  shrink  from  using  any  words  which  express  a  high 
religious  tone  and  condition,  which  imply  freedom  from 
all  base,  earthly,  and  selfish  inducements.  In  speaking 
to  you,  my  brethren,  I  will,  for  the  sake  of  my  argument, 
accept  your  own  account,  your  own  estimate,  of  your- 
selves. I  will  assume  that  there  ^vas  an  intermixture 
of  earthly  with  heavenly  motives  in  the  impulse  which 
first  led  you  to  choose  a  religious  life,  in  your  earliest 
responses  to  the  seeking  and  inviting  love  of  God  your 
Father;  that  you  did  hope,  by  responding  to  it,  to 
escape  hell  and  win  heaven,  and  that  this  was  your 
main,  if  not  only,  motive  in  turning  with  and  toward 
Him.  I  will  assume  that,  even  yet,  you  do  not  love 
Him  purely  for  Himself,  because  of  the  great  worth  you 
see  in  Him  ;  and  that,  in  serving  Him,  you  are  animated 
by  the  hope  of  receiving  some  wage,  or  reward,  besides 
that  of  becoming  pure  and  good,  useful  and  kind.  In 
your  own  eyes  you  stand  condemned  of  poor,  selfish,  and 
even  sordid  motives,  and  hence  there  is  as  much  fear  as 
love  in  your  very  religion.  And  I  do  not  defend  you 
from  yourselves,  from  your  own  censures  and  suspicions. 
Probably  there  is  some  ground,  there  may  be  much 
ground,  for  them.     But  the  question   I  want  to  urge  on 


4o6  MOTIVES. 


you  is  this  :  Granting  that  all  you  say  of  yourselves  is 
true,  still  is  there  any  reason  why  you  should  distrust 
the  love  of  God,  or  doubt  whether,  by  even  such  poor 
motives  as  you  confess  and  deplore.  He  will  yet  draw 
and  lift  you  into  a  large,  free,  and  happy  conformity 
with  his  will  ? 

This  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  is,  on  all  hands, 
admitted  to  contain  the  very  essence  of  the  Gospel,  of 
the  good  news,  the  glad  tidings,  which  Christ  came  to 
bring  us.  It  has  been  called  "  the  pearl  of  parables  ;  " 
and  you  yourselves  feel,  I  suppose,  that  no  more  simple, 
beautiful,  and  winning  statement  of  God's  dealing  with 
sinful  men  can  be  found  or  desired.  Well,  then,  what 
was  the  motive  which,  when  all  his  substance  was  wasted, 
brought  the  Prodigal  home?  Was  it  very  pure,  and 
spiritual,  and  lofty  ?  No  doubt,  he  had  a  deep  convic- 
tion of  his  own  sinfulness  and  demerit.  But  so  have 
you.  And  how  had  he  reached  that  conviction  ?  Simply 
by  the  pressure  of  want  and  misery,  and  because  he 
could  no  longer  get  even  the  husks  with  which  he  would 
willingly  have  balked,  rather  than  satisfied,  his  appetite. 
What  docs  he  himself  assign  as  his  motive  for  return  } 
Simply  the  reflection  that,  while  he  was  perishing  of 
hunger,  his  father's  hired  servants  had  enough  and  to 
spare,  and  the  desire  to  share  their  abundance.  Because 
he  was  sure  that  his  father  would  not  let  him  starve, 
because  he  wanted  to  shake  off  the  intolerable  yoke  of 


MOTIVES.  407 


want  and  misery,  he  arose  and  went  to  his  father.  On 
his  own  shewing,  his  motive  was  purely  and  frankly 
selfish — the  desire  to  escape  misery  and  to  secure  ease 
and  plenty.  And  yet  was  there  any  lack-  of  love  and 
grace  in  his  welcome  home?  Did  not  his  father  recog- 
nize him  while  he  was  a  great  way  off,  and  run  to  meet 
him,  and  embrace  him,  nay,  rise  into  a  transport  of  love 
and  joy  when  he  once  more  held  him  in  his  arms  ?  Did 
he  not  call  for  music  and  dancing,  and  command  his 
entire  household  to  make  merry  and  be  glad  over  the 
son  who  had  been  lost  but  was  found,  who  had  been 
dead  but  was  now  alive  ? 

And  what  is  your  admiration  of  the  Parable  worth  if 
it  does  not  teach  you  that,  however  poor,  imperfect,  and 
selfish  were  the  motives  which  first  brought  you  to  God, 
He  will  not  pause  to  weigh  and  analyze  them,  and  send 
you  back  until  your  heart  has  become  as  pure  and  perfect 
as  his  own  ?  Where  is  your  deference  for  Christ  if,  even 
from  his  lips,  you  will  not  learn  that,  because  God  is 
your  Father,  He  is  always  glad  to  have  you  back,  what' 
ever  the  motives  that  lead  you  home  ;  and  that,  if  only 
you  have  a  deep  sense  of  your  need  of  Him  and  of  your 
unworthincss  to  receive  anything  at  his  hands.  He  will 
gladly  supply  all  your  needs,  and  outrun  your  highest 
hopes — not  only  admitting  you  to  his  house,  but  lavish- 
ing love  and  welcome  upon  you,  and  rejoicing  over  you 
with  an  unspeakable  joy  ? 


4o8  MOTIVES. 


If  you  suffer  your  sense  of  sin  and  un worthiness,  and 
the  insufficiency  of  your  motives,  to  make  you  doubt 
your  welcome,  and  to  distrust  his  love,  how  can  you 
more  gravely  offend  against  his  love  ?  how  can  you 
more  deeply  sin  against  the  spirit  and  intention  of  the 
Parable  which  pourtrays  your  Father  as  breaking  in 
upon  the  Prodigal's  confession  of  sin,  not  suffering  him 
to  complete  it,  but  interrupting  it  with  the  command, 
"  Bring  forth  the  best  robe,  bring  it  quickly,  and  put  it 
on  him,  and  put  a  ring  on  his  hand  and  shoes  on  his 
feet,  .  .  .  and  let  us  eat  and  make  merry  "  ?  Is  not  this 
fond  and  eager  love  which  stops  your  mouth  even  when 
you  open  it  to  confess  your  sins,  which  so  cordially 
rejoices  over  you  as  a  son  that  for  very  shame  you  can- 
not say,  "  Make  me  one  of  thy  hired  servants,"  a  suffi- 
cient answer  to  all  your  scruples  and  doubts  and  fears  ? 
Can  you,  with  this  Parable  in  your  mind,  cherish  any 
doubt,  any  fear,  lest  God  should  reject  and  disdain  you 
because  you  find  a  taint  of  selfishness  in  the  motives 
which  brought  you  to  Him,  and  were  thinking  rather  of 
how  you  should  escape  want  and  misery,  evade  hell  and 
win  heaven,  than  of  the  beauty  of  holiness,  and  the 
blessedness  of  being  of  one  mind,  and  one  heart,  and 
one  will,  with  the  Fountain  of  all  truth  and  goodness  ? 

2.  But,  again,  the  Parable  meets  another  fear  which  is 
apt  to  rise  in  the  hearts  of  the  diffident  and  self-dis- 
trustful.    There  are  those  who  seldom  look  back  to  the 


MOTIVES.  409 


time  when  they  first  turned  to  God,  and  seldom  doubt, 
when  they  do  look  back,  that  they  did  then  yield  to  the 
influence  of  his  Spirit  and  respond  sincerely  to  the  in- 
vitations of  his  love  and  grace.  Their  fear  is  that  all 
the  promise  and  beauty  of  those  early  days  have  passed 
away.  And  there  may  be  some  here  who,  in  their  hours 
of  self-examination,  say  within  themselves  :  "  Ah,  if  only 
I  could  have  kept  the  glow  of  my  first  faith  and  devo- 
tion, if  I  had  become  what  I  then  hoped  to  be,  all  would 
be  well.  But  I  have  lost  it.  The  world  has  been  too 
much  with  mc.  The  cares  of  life,  the  toils  of  labour, 
cravings  for  ease  and  pleasure  too  often  gratified,  the 
staling  of  custom,  the  monotony  and  weariness  of  ever- 
repeated  acts  of  duty  and  worship,  have  dulled  my  faith 
and  chilled  the  ardour  of  my  devotion  and  love.  My 
religion  has  become  mainly  formal.  I  go  on  with  it 
because  it  has  become  a  habit  with  me,  or  because  I  am 
ashamed  to  turn  back.  I  may  be  still  in  my  Father's 
house,  but  I  am  seldom  conscious  of  any  quick  and 
warm  response  to  his  love.  Doubts  have  weakened  me. 
Truths  have  grown  familiar  to  me,  and  no  longer  exert 
their  old  power.  Prayer  has  lost  its  savour  and  its 
hopefulness.  I  cannot  trust  that  Providente  will  shape 
my  ends  for  me,  but  must  roughhew  them  for  myself  as 
best  I  may.  I  cannot  rely  on  the  grace  of  God  to  make 
me  what  I  would  be,  what  I  ought  to  be.  The  better 
life  is  losing  its  charm  for  mc.     I  am  fast  falling  out  of 


4IO  MOTIVES. 


sympathy  with  my  Father's  will.  And  He — He  does 
nothing  for  me,  never  gives  me  aught  that  would  make 
me  strong  and  merry  again.  If  I  still  go  about  my 
duties,  I  discharge  them  in  the  spirit  of  a  servant, 
rather  than  of  a  son." 

If  these  words  in  any  measure  answer  to  and  express 
your  feeling  about  yourselves,  my  brethren,  again  I  will 
not  contradict  you  nor  defend  you  from  yourselves.  I 
will  assume  that  this  terrible  self-indictment  is  true, 
though  I  hope  it  is  not  so  true  as  you  think  it.  But, 
admitting  it  to  be  true  to  the  full,  still  you  have  no 
reason  to  distrust  your  Father's  love,  or  to  doubt  that  He 
will  win  you  wholly  to  Himself  and  make  his  service 
your  delight. 

The  Elder  Brother  in  our  Parable  is  not  an  admirable 
or  attractive  character,  but  he  may  be  of  great  use,  of 
great  comfort,  to  you.  He  had  long  been  in  his  father's 
house.  He  had  never  openly  crossed  his  father's  will. 
He  was  serving  him,  busy  with  his  duties  "  in  the  field," 
at  the  very  moment  when  the  Prodigal  came  back.  But 
his  service  had  been  that  of  the  hired  servant,  rather 
than  that  of  a  son,  as  you  now  suspect  yours  to  have 
been.  He  had  kept  a  devout  eye  on  the  estate,  and  was 
not  very  sorry,  I  am  afraid,  that  he  was  to  be  his  father's 
sole  heir.  He  had  looked  for  reward,  and  grudged  that 
no  kid  had  ever  been  given  to  him  that  he  might  make 
merry  with  his  friends.    He  is  quite  out  of  sympathy  with 


MOTIVES.  411 


his  father,  calls  the  returned  Prodigal  "  thy  son,"  not  "  my 
brother,"  rakes  up  all  his  old  sins  against  him  at  the  very 
hour  in  which  his  father  had  forgiven  them  all.  He  even 
resists  his  father's  entreaties,  at  least  for  a  time,  and 
refuses  to  share  his  father's  joy.  Can  you  conceive  a 
stronger  illustration  and  proof  of  the  dulling  influence  of 
a  customary  and  formal  obedience  ?  Yet  how  does  his 
father  meet  him  ?  With  an  outburst  of  love  and  confi- 
dence and  tenderness  which  has  always  seemed  to  me 
the  most  difficult,  and  the  most  admirable,  stroke  in  the 
whole  parable :  "  Son,  thou  art  ever  zvith  vie,  ami  all  that 
I  have  is  t/tine"  !  And  here  we  must  hope  that  the  cold 
hard  heart  melted,  though  we  are  not  told  that  it  did  ; 
for  who,  or  what,  could  resist  such  a  love  as  this  ?  We 
must  believe  that  it  melted  into  an  answering  tenderness, 
although  the  father  will  not  give  up  the  poor  sinner  who 
had  found  his  way  home,  but  still  insists,  "  It  was  meet 
that  we  should  make  merry  and  be  glad  "  over  him. 

Does  the  moral  need  any  pointing,  any  application  ? 
Do  you  not  feel  for  yourselves  that,  however  dull  and 
hard  your  hearts  may  have  grown,  however  formal  and 
unworthy  your  service,  however  cold  and  unloving  your 
spirit,  God  has  nevertheless  grace  and  \o\c  for  you, 2i\o\'c 
and  grace  which  will  yet  break  down  all  that  is  cold  and 
indifferent  in  you,  and  that  Me  will  meantime  accept  any 
duty,  any  poor  service  you  can  render  Him  ?  When 
once  you  hear  these  gracious  words,  and  hear  them  as  if 


412  MOTIVES. 


spoken  personally  to  you,  "  Son,  thou  art  ever  with  mc, 
and  all  that  I  have  is  thine,"  you  will  learn  at  last  to 
serve  for  love,  and  not  for  reward,  from  the  heart  and 
not  only  from  habit,  or  a  cold  conviction  of  duty,  or  a 
selfish  expectation  of  pain. 

Let  no  man  tlespair  of  himself,  then.  Let  no  man  dis- 
trust the  compassion  or  the  love  of  God.  However 
selfish  or  imperfect  the  motive  that  brings  us  to  Him, 
He  will  not  only  welcome  us,  but  will  also  make  us 
worthy  of  his  love  at  last.  However  selfish  or  imperfect 
the  spirit  which  animates  our  service,  whether  in  the 
house  or  in  the  field.  He  will  not  only  accei)t  our  service 
for  more  than  it  is  worth;  He  will  also  brcalhe  the 
ardour  of  his  love  into  our  cold  hearts  until  we  share  his 
spirit,  and  delight  to  do  his  will,  and  ask  for  no  reward 
except  that  we  may  serve  Him  still. 


XXX. 

A  PARABLE, 

The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  unto  a  certain  man  who 
had  two  sons.  And  the  younger  of  them,  instead  of 
saying  to  his  father,  "  Give  me  my  portion,  that  I  may 
go  and  spend  it,"  took  his  fate  into  his  own  hands,  and, 
carrying  off  with  him  what  he  had  been  forbidden  to 
touch,  took  his  journey  into  a  far  country,  and  there 
wasted  his  ill-gotten  substance  in  riotous  living.  And 
when  he  had  spent  all,  and  began  to  be  in  want,  his 
father,  whose  love  had  never  changed  or  faltered  for  a 
moment,  sent  him  all  that  he  needed,  with  many  tender 
entreaties  to  return.  But  he  would  not.  Living  on  his 
father's  bounty,  he  nevertheless  spurned  his  father's  love, 
and  evil  entreated  the  messengers  who  brought  his  gifts 
and  invitations.  Some  he  beat,  and  some  he  stoned,  and 
some  he  slew. 

Now  the  elder  son  remained  ever  in  his  father's  house, 
and  was  daily  his  father's  delight  But  even  in  their 
happiest  moments  a  shadow  would  fall  on  them  as  they 
remembered  the  son  and  brother  who  was  lost  to  them. 


414  A  PARABLE. 


At  length  they  could  bear  it  no  longer.  The  same 
thought  sprang  up  at  the  same  instant  in  both  their 
hearts,  so  truly  were  the  twain  one.  The  father  said 
within  himself,  "  I  will  send  my  son  ;  peradventure  he 
will  hear  him."  And  the  son  said  within  himself,  "  I  will 
go  after  him  ;  peradventure  he  will  come  back  with  me, 
and  then  my  father's  face  will  no  longer  be  clouded  with 
grief" 

So  the  elder  son  left  his  father's  house,  where  all  that 
the  father  had  was  his,  and  in  which  he  had  daily  made 
merry  with  many  friends,  to  seek  and  to  save  him  that 
was  lost.  With  patient  feet  he  trod  the  long  difficult 
road,  suffering  many  strange  indignities  at  the  hands  of 
the  citizens  of  that  country,  till  at  last  he  found  his 
brother  ;  whom,  when  he  saw,  he  ran  forward  to  meet, 
and  fell  on  his  neck,  and  kissed  him.  With  many 
pathetic  words,  and  many  cordial  signs  of  love,  he  be- 
sought the  prodigal  to  return,  that  he  might  be  the  stay 
and  comfort  of  his  father's  heart.  But  the  prodigal, 
though  so  poor,  thought  himself  rich,  though  in  a  most 
miserable  bondage,  thought  himself  free,  and  hardened 
himself  against  all  the  beseeching  memories  of  home 
which  rose  within  him,  and  the  appealing  grace  of  his 
brother's  -lips.  He  renounced  the  father  who  had  be- 
gotten him.  He  claimed  as  the  fruit  of  his  own  toil 
the  gifts  of  his  father's  bounty.  He  denied  that  his 
brother  ivas  his  brother  to  his  face.     Nay,  he  conspired 


A  PARABLE.  415 


with  the  citizens  of  that  country,  and  the  dark  tyrant 
whom  they  served,  against  the  brother  who  came  to  save 
him  from  their  cruel  hands.  They  mocked  at  him  ;  they 
buffeted  and  scourged  him  :  they  put  him  to  a  cruel  and 
a  shameful  death. 

That  crime  awoke  his  conscience.  He  was  filled  with 
remorse  and  despair  ;  and,  but  for  the  grace  of  Heaven, 
he  would  have  laid  violent  hands  on  himself,  and  have 
gone  "  anywhere,  anywhere,  out  of  the  world."  But  the 
brother,  whom  he  had  done  to  death,  hod  a  life  he  could 
not  reach.  He  rose  from  a  grave  that  could  not  hold 
him.  He  came  back  to  the  sullen  desperate  man  who 
had  found  no  place  for  repentance,  though  he  had  sought 
it  carefully  and  with  tears.  He  renewed,  and  multiplied, 
the  signs  and  entreaties  of  love.  And,  at  sight  of  him, 
at  the  touch  of  a  love  stronger  than  death,  the  hard  heart 
melted.  He  rose  from  the  ground  on  which  he  had  cast 
himself,  but  only  to  fall  at  his  brother's  feet,  and  sob  out 
broken  confessions  of  his  guilt,  his  unworthiness  of  a  love 
so  tender  and  so  true.  But  his  brother  grasped  him  by 
the  hand,  raised  him  to  his  feet,  carried  him  off  to  his 
inn,  washed  away  the  stains  of  his  foul  and  abject  condi- 
tion, put  a  new  clean  robe  upon  him,  and  joyfully  and 
tenderly  led  him  home. 

As  they  came  and  drew  nigh  to  the  house,  their  father, 
who  was  hungrily  watching  for  them,  saw  them  while  }-ct 
they  were  a  great  way  off,  saw  too  that  the  task  of  love 


4i6  A  PARABLE. 


was  accomplished,  and  ran  to  meet  them,  and  fell  on  the 
neck  first  of  one  and  then  of  the  other,  and  kissed  them. 
And  when  the  younger  son,  whom  he  had  kissed  first, 
would  have  fallen  at  his  feet,  and  have  once  more  con- 
fessed his  sins,  the  happy  father  prevented  him,  and  bade 
his  servants  bring  forth  the  best  robe  and  put  it  on  him  ; 
and  commanded  them  to  make  ready  a  great  feast ;  for, 
said  he,  "  this,  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again  ;  and 
this  was  lost,  and  is  found."  And  they  began  to  be 
merry  ;  and  soon  the  whole  spacious  house  throbbed  to 
the  dancers'  feet,  and  to  the  sound  of  the  music  to  which 
they  danced. 


UNW!N    BROTHERS,   THE   GRESHAM    PBESS,   CHILWORTH   AND   LONDON. 


EXPOSITIONS. 

VOLUME     in.       Si;C(ONI)     IIIOUSANI).       Price   js.    C,i. 

nv  A'/ir.  s A. ]'{//':/.  cox,  /m. 


"  Dr.  Cox's  simple  and  educated  style  rarely  reminds  his  readers 
of  the  pulpit.  He  displays  cunsiderable  research,  and,  what  is 
more  rare,  an  historical  imagination  that  can  construct  a  character 
and  a  philosophy  out  of  scattered  indications." — SaiuriiayRcviciu. 

"  Our  ample  notice  of  the  former  series  of  Dr.  Cox's  '  Exposi- 
tions '  renders  it  needless  to  do  more  than  call  attention  to  the 
appearance  of  a  third  series,  having  the  same  undeniable  impress 
of  the  author's  '  image  and  superscription.'  Dr.  Cox  continues  to 
sustain  in  this  volume  his  well-established  roie  of  a  thoughtful, 
independent,  and  striking  expositor." — Academy. 

"  When  we  say  that  the  volume  possesses  all  the  intellectual,  moral, 
and  spiritual  characteristics  which  have  won  for  its  author  so  dis- 
tinguished a  place  among  the  religious  teachers  of  his  time  ;  that 
the  courage,  the  sympnlhy,  and  the  charity  of  the  writer  are  as 
strong  as  ever,  what  further  recommendation  can  be  necessary?" — 
Nonconformist. 

"Dr.  Cox  has  many  thoughts  which  could  only  come  to  a  man 
of  extensive  learning  who  has  kept  well  abreast  of  the  latest  dis- 
cussions."—.SV.  James's  Gazette. 

"A  worthy  successor  of  the  two  admirable  volumes  that  have 
already  appeared."  —^S/tTA/Av. 

"Simple,  earnest,  and  picturesque  studies  of  Holy  Scripture 
very  helpful  and  suggestive."— C////n7/  Rci'icw,  New   York. 

28 


"These  sermons  are  rich  in  thought  and  pungent  in  expression. 
They  shew  on  every  page  an  honest  purpose  to  meet  the  age  on 
its  own  ground,  and  to  deliver  the  message  of  the  Gospel  as  the 
best  word  for  the  time." — IVew  York  Independent. 

"  No  reader  will  fail  to  find  most  helpful  suggestions,  fresh 
springs  of  invigorating  thought." — Christian  Leader. 

"  Models  in  their  way,  full  of  rich  thoughtfulness,  and  pregnant 
with  suggestiveness  and  stimulus." — Aberdeen  Journal. 

"Full  of  the  marrow  of  suggestive  thought  and  careful  exegesis." — 
Dublin  Daily  Express. 

"  Dr.  Cox  is  a  wise  householder,  and  he  is  able  to  bring  out  of 
the  rich  treasure  which  he  has  found  in  the  Scriptures  things  both 
new  and  old." — Cojigregatiojialist. 

*'  A  rare  power  of  suggestiveness,  teaching  at  once  luminous  and 
strong,  and  a  spirit  which  ennobles  and  enriches  the  life  within." — _ 
Baptist  Magazine. 

"  While  there  is  not  one  of  these  expositions  that  is  not  marked 
by  keen  spiritual  insight  and  rare  literary  beauty,  some  of  them 
will  actually  make  a  thoughtful  reader  feel  as  if  a  veil  had  been 
taken  from  his  eyes." — Christian  Age. 

"  The  well,  being  deep,  gives  no  sign  of  exhaustion,  and  the 
water  drawn  from  it  is  as  sparkling  and  refreshing  as  ever." — 
Literary  World. 

"  Most  beautiful  and  instructive  expositions." — Methodist  Times. 

"  Thoughtful,  original,  and  vigorous." —  Yorkshire  l^ost. 

"Among  the  wisest  and  most  suggestive  discourses  that  have 
been  written  during  this  generation." — Sheffield  Independent. 

LONUON  :   T.  FISHER  UNWIN,  26,  1'aternoster  Square,  E.C. 


EXPOSITIONS. 

VOLUME    II.       SECOND  THOUSAND.       r>ice  7s.  6d. 
BY  KliV.    SAMUEL    COX,   D.D. 

"The  friiilfiilness  of  Dr.  Cox's  ministry  is,  like  that  of  a  pood 
orchard,  perennial.  Every  year  brings  its  harvest.  And  the  fruit 
is  always  sound,  of  good  flavour,  and  full  of  wholesome  nutri- 
ment. .  .  .  We  trust  that  he  may  find  so  many  proofs  of  the  desire 
of  his  ever-increasing  audience  for  such  teaching  and  help  as  he 
can  give,  that  he  may  be  encouraged,  year  by  year,  to  r.hake  the 
boughs  of  his  ministry  over  England,  and  make  us  all  happier  and 
wiser  by  its  fruits." — Sundny  School  Chronicle. 

"  The  exposition  is  transparently  clear,  such  as  can  be  given  only 
by  one  who  thoronglily  understands  his  subject.  The  language  is 
simple,  direct,  and  every  sentence  carries  you  forward.  The  labour 
of  many  divines,  when  expounding  a  passage,  reminds  one  of  an 
engine  trying  to  go  up  an  incline  with  a  train  on  a  frosty  morning  ; 
the  wheels  go  round  at  a  great  rate,  but  there  is  no  progress  made. 
With  Dr.  Cox,  however,  the  wheels  always  *  bite,' and  the  reader 
feels  that  he  is  being  carried  on  smoothly,  yet  rapidly,  to  his 
journey's  end." — Aberdeen  Journal. 

"  Here  too  we  have  the  clear  exegetical  insight,  the  lucid  exposi- 
tory style,  the  chastened  but  elTective  eloquence,  the  high  ethical 
standpoint,  which  secured  for  the  earlier  series  a  wellnigh  unanimous 
award  of  commendation.  No  less  prominent  is  their  generous 
comprehensive  catholicity.  We  regard  it  as  a  merit  of  the  highest 
order,  both  on  religious  and  other  grounds,  that  these  sermons 
might  have  been  delivered  from  the  pulpit  of  any  cluuch  that 
deserved  the  name  of  Christian." — Academy. 

"  This  volume  will  take  rank  with  the  noblest  utterances  of  the 
day  ;  not  merely  because  they  (the  expositions)  are  eloquent — we 
have  eloquence  enough  and  to  spare  ;  not  because  they  are  learned 
—  learning  is  often  labour  and  sorrow  :  but  because  they  will  give 
fresh  heart  and  hope,  new  light  and  faith,  to  many  for  whom  the 
world  is  ' dark  with  griefs  and  gra\es.'  " — Nonconformist. 

"  Dr.  Cox's  handling  of  Scripture  is  reverent,  thoughtful,  careful ; 
always  that  of  one  who  believes  that  if  we  '  read,  mark,  learn,  and 
inwardly  digcvt '  what  is  there  on  the  sacred  pages,  we  shall  not 
fail  to  derive  true  and  abundant  nutriment  for  the  soul.  .  .  .  Quite 
equal  to  anything  that  has  hitherto  come  from  the  same  source  in 
beauty  of  diction  and  felicity  of  illustration." — Guardian. 


«*  Readers  of  this  volume,  as  of  all  Dr.  Cox's  books,  will  feel  the 
freshness  and  force  and  freedom  of  thought  which  characterize  it. 
Holding  fast  by  great  evangelical  principles,  he  yet  expresses  them 
in  unconventional  \vays"~Br///s/i  (Jucu/c'r/y. 

"The  volume  ought  to  be  a  perfect  treasure-house  for  any 
preacher  who  knows  how  to  use  its  stores  wisely.  Its  chief  value, 
however,  is  not  for  men  who  look  to  books  to  think  for  them,  but 
rather  for  those  who  seek  in  them  that  which  will  help  them  to 
think." — Co7ti;rei^aiio)inlist. 

"Written  in  a  beautifully  transparent  style,  and  characterized  by 
sound  Biblical  learning,  a  commendable  breadth  of  view,  a  deep 
yet  sober  piety,  and  a  remarkable  delicacy  of  critical  touch." — 
Scotsman. 

"Characterized  by  critical  discrimination,  moral  earnestness, 
and  freshness  of  Biblical  thought.  Exceedingly  fresh  and  stimu- 
lating."— Glasgoiv  Herald. 

"  While  always  suggestive  and  mentally  stimulating  in  their 
treatment  of  sacred  subjects,  they  are  not  wanting  in  practical  and 
direct  dealing  with  the  conscience.  No  minister  who  wishes  to 
interest  his  people  in  the  study  of  Scripture,  and  to  make  them 
acquainted  with  its  deeper  meanings  should  be  without  these 
expositions." — Christian  World. 

"  They  are  marked  by  a  freshness  and  vigour  of  treatment,  and 
a  depth  of  insight  into  the  meaning  of  Holy  Scripture,  which 
render  them  very  interesting  as  well  as  very  profitable  reading." — 
John  Bull. 

"The  author  throws  light  on  many  a  difficult  and  obscure 
passage  of  Scripture,  and  illumines  many  familiar  texts  with 
felicitous  comments  and  illustration." — Inquirer. 

"  Decidedly  interesting  sermons  :  when  you  have  read  one,  you 
want  to  read  another." — Church  of  England  Pulpit. 

"  Every  page  exhibits  ripe  scholarship  and  manly  and  vigorous 
fidelity  to  truth." — Christian  Commonwealth. 

"  Dr.  Cox's  clearness,  accuracy,  freshness  of  illustration,  and  the 
other  c|ualities  which  make  him  so  attractive  an  exegete,  need  no 
commendation  from  us." — Methodist  Recorder. 

"  There  is  much  that  is  fresh,  and,  we  need  scarcely  say,  much 
that  is  solid." — Ecclesiastical  Gazette. 

London:  T.   FISHER  UNWIN,  26,  Paternoster  Square,  E,C. 


EXPOSITIONS 

VOLUME   I.       THIRD    TII()USy\N'n.       riicc  js.  U. 

BY  REV.   SAMUEL    COX,   D.D. 


"This  volume  consists  of  thirty-three  expositions  whicli  combine 
In  a  remarkable  degree  critical  grasp  and  popular  attractiveness. 
It  is  a  book  that  is  rich  in  thought  and  good  counsel,  and  pregnant 
witli  aids  for  Cliristian  teachers  of  all  the  churches." — British 
Quart criy. 

"  We  welcome,  and  ho|JC  the  public  will  welcome,  this  valuable 
volume  of  expository  lectures  or  discourses." — Spectator. 

"  We  Iiope  that  this  volume  may  meet  with  such  success  as  will 
determine  the  author  to  fulfil  his  half-promise  of  following  it  up." 
— Academy. 

"There  is  a  gracefulness  and  ingenuity  in  Dr.  Cox's  essays  upon 
Sftcred  themes  and  texts  which  make  them  always  pleasant  and 
often  profitable  reading." — Guardian. 

"These  'expositions'  discuss  with  much  breadth  of  view  and 
ability  a  variety  of  interesting  matters,  some  of  the  most  notorious 
difiicultics  of  Scriptural  interpretation  meeting  with  a  treatment 
which  is  always  honest  and  sometimes  remarkably  successful." — 
Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"The  spirit  is  so  admirable,  and  the  tone  so  noble  ;  there  is  such 
keen  insight  and  such  practical  shrewdness  ;  so  close  a  union  of 
intellectual  and  moral  genius,  that  the  book  carries  inspiration  with 
it." — Nonconformist. 

"  Their  style  is  as  graceful,  attractive,  and  faultless  as  their 
thought  is  unconventional  and  tiieir  feeling  pure.  They  are  a 
valuable  possession  for  students  of  the  Divine  Word." — Freeman. 

"Evangelical,  though  not  Calvinistic,  orthodox,  without  narrow- 
ness."— Scotsman, 

"  These  discourses  are  fresh,  striking,  original,  and  suggestive." 
—  Conifrci^ationalist. 

"  Dr.  Cox  has  a  good  deal  of  nervous  eloquence  in  his  style  ;  he 
holds  us  by  his  conscious  sincerity  ;  and  where  we  differ  from  him 
we  can  but  respect  him  for  the  courage  of  his  convictions." — 
Evan-'tl/cal  J/aiia::ine. 


"  Dr.  Cox,  as  an  exposilor  of  Holy  Scripture,  has  few  equals. 
His  perceptions  of  truth  are  so  transparent,  his  impressions  are  so 
vivid,  his  fidehly  to  conviction  is  so  manly,  and  his  diction  so 
natural,  brijjht,  and  clear,  that  to  read  his  papers  is  a  rare  luxury, 
and  once  lead  they  are  not  willingly  forgotten." — Methodist  New 
Connexion  Magazine. 

"He  combines,  as  few  men  do,  the  various  qualities  which  go  to 
make  a  good  Interpreter.  He  unites  critical  learning,  insight  into 
the  relation  of  the  word  uttered  long  ago  to  our  own  time,  patient 
seeking  after  the  truth  ;  and  a  lucidity  so  great  as  to  argue  want  of 
intelligence  in  the  reader  who  cannot  understand  him." — United 
Methodist  Mciffasine. 

"  Dr.  Cox  is  an  expositor  of  subtle  insight  and  rare  literary  skill." 
— British  and  Foreign  Evangelical  Review. 

"  There  is  a  manliness,  and  a  plainness  of  speech,  about  these 
sermons  which  is  very  refreshing." — Chinch  oj  England  Pulpit. 

"All,  whether  they  approve  of  his  teaching  or  not,  will  find  in 
his  sermons  independent  thought,  vigorous  expression,  and,  what 
is  better  still,  much  heart-searching  truth." — Leeds  Merctiry. 

"  The  author  of  these  thoughtful  and  truly  refreshing  pages 
endeavours  to  lead  his  readers  into  the  spacious  heritage  of  theo- 
logical freedom  on  which  this  generation  has  joyfully  entered." — 
Christian  World. 

"  A  volume  which  cannot  be  safely  overlooked  by  any  student 
of  Scriptuie  who  wishes  to  kee[)  abreast  of  the  UmG."— Christian 
Leader. 

"  It  will  meet  with  a  warm  welcome,  and  allay  many  doubts." — 
Literary  World. 

"Clear,  careful,  candid,  and  sympathetic  studies  of  the  Scrip- 
tures."— Literary  World,  Boston,  U.S.A. 

"  Dr.  Cox  discourses  with  great  vigour  and  clearness,  presenting 
many  old  truths  in  a  new  light,  and  energetically  grappling  with 
what  he  deems  erroneous  views  of  Scripture." — Federal  Australian. 

"Dr.  Cox  is  a  strong  man  ;  he  looks  a  question  square  in  the 
face,  and  grapples  with  it  hand  to  hand." — Sydney  Morning  Herald. 

London  :  T.  FISHER  UNWIN,  26,  Paternoster  Square,  E.G. 


Mr.  Unwin  has  pleasure  in  sending 
herewith  his  Catalogue  of  Sele6l  Books. 

Book  Buyers  are  requested  to  order 
any  Books  they  may  require  from  their 
local  Bookseller* 


Catalogue  of  Select  Books  in  Belles  L,ettres^ 
History^  Biography^  Theology^  Travel^ 
General  Literature^  and  Books  for 
Children. 


Q^effee  Ee^^ree 


UDhorion  *    S'"'^'*^^  of  the  Antique  and  the    Mcdiaival 
1  *   in   the   Renaissance.        By  Vernon    Lee. 


E- 
Cheap    Edition     in    one    volume.      Demy     8vo.,    cloth, 
7s.  6d. 
"  It  is  tin;  fruit,  as  every  page  testifies,  of  singularly  wide  reading  and  indepen- 
dent thought,  and  the  style  combines  with  much  picturesqueness  a  certain  largeness 
of  volume,  that  reminds  us  more  of  our  earlier  writers  than  those  of  our  own  time." 

Contemporary  Review. 

Studies    of   the  Eighteenth    Century    in 

Italy.      By  Vernon  Lee.     Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  7s.  6d. 
"  These  studies  show  a  wide  range  of  knowledge  of  the  subject,  precise  investi- 
gation, abundant  power  of  illustration,  and  hearty  enthusiasm.    .     .     .     The  style 
of  writing  is  cultivated,  neatly  adjusted,  and  markedly  clever.  " — Saturday  Review. 

Rplca.ro  •     ^<^'"g  Essays  on  Sundry  iEsthctical  Questions.    By 

Vernon  Lee,  Author  of  "  Euphorion,"  "Baldwin," 

&c.     Crown  Svo.,  cloth,  5s. 

"  Ihis  way  of  conveying  ideas  is  very  fascinating,  and  has  an  efTect  of  creating 

activity  in  the  reader's  mind  which  no  other  mode  can  equal.     From  first   to   last 

there  is  a  continuous  and  delightful  stimulation  of  thought." — Academy. 

TllVPnilia  •  "^  Second  Scries  of  Essays  on  Sundry  ./£sthctical 
J  '     Questions.     By  Vernon  Lee.     Two  vols.     Small 

crown  8vo.,  cloth,  12s. 

"To  discuss  it  properly  would  require  more  si)ace  than  a  single  number  of  '  The 
.Academy  '  could  afford." — Academy. 

"  list  agr(;'ablc  :'i  lire  ct  fait  pcnscr."— A'«r«  des  deux  .\fotides. 


11301100  iLettres. 


Raldwin   *     Dialogues  on  views  and  Aspirations      By  Vernon 
Lee.     Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  12s. 
•  The  dialogues  are  written  with     .     .     .    ;in  intellectual  courage  which  shrinks 
I'roni  no  logical  conclusion.'' — Scotsman. 

Arradv  *     For  Better,  For  Worse.  By  Augustus  J  essopp,  D.D., 
/   *     Author  of  "One  Generation  of  a  Norfolk  House." 
Portrait.     Popular  edition.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 
"A  volume  which  is,  to  our  minds,  one  of  the  most  delightful  ever  published  in 
English.'' — Sped  tor. 

"  .\  capital  book,  abounding  in  true  wisdom  and  humour.     .     .     E.xccllent  and 
amusing." — Melbouriic  A>giis. 

T'he    PlePf  *     ^^^    River,   Prison,   and   Marriages.       By  John 
AsHTON,  Author  of"  Social  Life  in  the  Reign 
of  Queen  Anne,"  &c.     With  70   Drawings   by   the   Author 
from  Original  Pictures.     Demy  Svo.,  cloth  elegant,  21s. 

Romances  of  Chivalry  :  l""^^.  ^"^,  ^""«^^»;<^d  in 

/        f<ac-similc  by  John  AsHTON. 
Forty-six  Illustrations.     Demy  8vo.,  cloth  elegant,  gilt  tops, 
18s. 
' '  I'lie  result  (of  the  reproduction  of  the  wood  blocks)  is  as  creditable  to  his 
artistic,  as  the  text  is  to  his  literary,  ability." — Guardian. 

The  Daw^n  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  in 

England  :  A  Social  Sketch  of  the  Times.   By  John  Ashton. 

Cheaper   edition,  in  one   vol.     Illustrated.     Large   crown 

8vo  ,  los.  6d. 
• '  The  book  is  one  continued  source  of  pleasure  and  interest,  and  opens  up  a  wide 
field  for  speculation  and  comment,  and  many  of  us  will  look  upon  it  as  an  import- 
ant contribution  to  contemporary  history,  not  easily  available  to  others  than  close 
students." — Antiquary. 

The    Legendary   History    of  the    Cross : 

A  Series  of  Sixty-four  Woodcuts,  from  a  Dutch  book 
published  by  Veldener,  a.d.  1483.  With  an  Introduction 
written  and  Illustrated  by  John  Ashton,  and  a  Preface  by 
the  Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould,  M.A  Square  8vo.,  bound  in 
Parchment,  old  style,  brass  clasps,  los.  6d. 
"The  book  thus  constituted  will  be  a  fa\ouritc  witli  aiitiqnaricb  and  bludentb  on 
|:Tmniti\e  art."— AV/itj  and  Qncria. 


■ Hgeiieg  Lcttres, 5 

Legends  and  Popular  Talcs  ot  the  Basque 

People.      By  Mariana  Montkiro.      Witli  Full-page  Illustra- 
tions   in    Photogravure  by  Harold  Copping.     Fcap.  410., 
cloth,  los.  6d.      Popular  Edition.     Croun   8vo,,  cloth,  gilt 
edges,  6s. 
"  In  every  respect  this  comely  volume  is  ;i  nolaljle  additiun  to  tlie  shelf  devoted 

to  folk-lore    ....     and  the  pictures  in   photogravure  nobly  interpret  tlic 

text."— f/;//V. 

Heroic   Tales.        R<^t old    from    Firdusi   the   Persian        By 

Helen  Zimmern.     With  Etchings  by  L. 

Alma    Tadema.       Popular    edition.       Crown     8vo.,     cloth 

extra,  5s. 

"  (.'harminp  from  b<'f;inning  to  end.  .  .  .  .Miss  Zimmern  deserves  all  credit  f.jr 

her  courage  in  attempiing  the  ta«k,  and  for  her  marvellous  succe<;s  in  carrying  i' 

out." — Satiin/iiy  /wvvV:.'. 

Woodland  Tales.     !^>'  J",'-',"^  ^:"".^'^',;^"il!°^  "f "  Jl' 

Buchholz  Family.       Translated  by 
K.  VVright.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 
•They  are  pervaded  by  a  quiet  yet  moving  charm  which  depends,  not  on  fine 
writinp,  but  on  inie  perception  of  character,  simple  hut  firm  and  clear  delineation, 
and  honest  natural  fecliiicr. "— .SVi'Awc/^/. 

Pilgrim  Sorrow.     S>'  ^'^^\''  %"-''  f^\'  ^^•'""  °^ 

D  Jloumania).       Translated     by    Helen 

Zimmern.     Portrait-etching    by    Lalauze.     Square    crown 

8vo.,  cloth  extra,  5s. 

"  .\  strain  of  sadness  runs  through  the  delicate  thought  and  fancy  of  the  Queen 

of  Roumania.     Her  popularity  as  an  anthor  is  already  great  in  Germany,  and  this 

little  work  will  win  her  a  place  in  many  English  hearts.  "-  -Standard. 

A  Crystal  Age.     Crown  8vo.,  cioth,  4s.  6d. 

"  The  creation  ot  a  clever  and  poetical  fancy.  .  .  .  We  have  read  it  with  growing 
pleasure.  ' — Saturday  Keview. 

"  It  is  individual  in  Tirtue  of  its  fine  and  delicate  feeling  for  natural  beauty." 

St.  James's  Gasette. 

The  Poison  Tree  :   ^  '^^^'^^'  "i^J^^Life  in  Bengal. 

By  B.   Chandra  Chatterjee.     In- 
troduction by  Edwin  Arnold,  M.A.,  C.S.I. 
"  This  is  a  work  of  real  genius.  .  .  .  .As  a  picture  of  the  social  life  of  the  Hindus 
cannot  but  be  regarded  as  masterly."— /?r///M  Qnartrrly  Ra-ievo. 


iBtWt^  ilettrcs. 


The  Touchstone  of  Peril :  a  Tak  ot  the  Indian 

Mutiny.     By  Dudley 
Hardress  Thomas.     Second  edition.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  6s, 
"  The   volumes   abound   both    in   brilliant   descriptive  passages  and  in   clever 
character  sketches.     A  novelist  of  very  remarkable  powers." — Dciily  News. 

"  '  The  Touchstone  of  Peril '  is  the  best  Anglo-Indian  novel  that  has  appeared  for 
some  years." — Times  of  India. 

More  than  He   Barp;ained  for:    ^  YT 

O  Novel.     By 

J.  R.  Hutchinson.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  6s. 

Tarantella  •      ^  Romance.     By   Mathilde   Blind,  Author 
of  "  Life  of  George   Eliot."     Second  edition. 
Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  6s. 
"  Told  with  great  spirit  and  effect,  and  shows  very  considerable  power." 

Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

The  Amazon:  ^/'\^T^;  ?>'  Carl  vosmaer 

Preface    by    Prot.     George    Lbebs,    and 
Frontispiece  specially  drawn  by  L.  Alma  Tadema,  R.A. 
"  It  is  a  work  full  of  deep,  suggestive  thought." — The  Academy. 

npUp   T^pmnlp  •      Sacred   Poems   and    Private   Ejaculations. 
X  llL.     X  Cllipic  ,     g^    j^^_     George     Herbert.     New    and 
fourth    edition,    with     Introductory    Essay    by    J.    Herny 
Shorthouse.     Small  crown,  sheep,  5s. 
J  facsimile  reprint  of  the  Original  Edition  c/'l633. 
"This  charming  reprint  has  a  fresh  value  added  to  it  by  the  Introductory  Essay 
of  the  Author  of  'John  Inglesant.'  " — Academy. 

An  Italian  Garden:  a  Book  of  Songs.   ByA.MARv 

F.  Robinson.  Fcap.,  8vo.,  parch- 
ment, 3s.  6d. 
"They  are  most  of  them  exquisite  in  form." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 
"  Full  of  elegance  and  even  tenderness." — Spectator. 
"  Their  grace  cannot  escape  notice." — Contemporary  Review. 
"  A  little  book  of  beauties." — Athencciun. 

"  A  book  of  flower-fragrant  verse. 
Dreamy,  delightful,  tender,  terse — 

Most  admirably  done  ! 
There's  light  and  colour  in  each  scene, 
There's  music  of  the  mandoline, 

And  bright  Italian  sun  !" — Punch. 

The  Lazy  Minstrel.     l^^-f^^^^l'-T^.^^'f'''f 

J  •        <«  Boudoir    Ballads.         Frontis- 

piece.    Fcap.  8vo.,  cloth,  printed  on  hand-made  paper,  6s. 
"  One  of  the  lightest  and  brightest  writers  of  vers  de  soci(ft^." 

St.  James's  Gaxette. 


15elles  ilettrc0. 


'^rUo     C*:»r^^«t-l/-i..  .      A     Drama.       Bv     Augusta     Webster, 

1  ne  sentence  .   ^^^,^^^  ^,j.  . ,,;  ^^  ,)^y ..  ^^^   s^,„ 

crown  Svo.,  cUjth,  4s.  6d. 
Til p  Mew  Purer;!  tor V     and  other  Poems.    By  Elizabeth 

ine  iMew  rurgatory,  j^^^^^^  chapman,  Author  of 

"A   Comtist  Lover,"   &c.     Square   imperial    i6mo.,  cloth, 
4s.  6d. 

Disillusion,  ""d  other  Po=ms      ByET„.,,E  nnFoK.LANQ^H. 
'  Square  8vo.,  cloth,  4s.  od. 

Introductory  Studies  in  Greek  Art. 

Delivered  in   the  British   Museum  by  Jane  E.   Harrison. 

With  Illustrations.     Square  imperial  i6mo.,  7s.  6d. 
"  The  best  work  of  its  kind  in  English."— O.r/orrf  Magazine. 
"The  volume  is  in  itself  a  work  of  dcci."— Contemporary  Kevieiv. 

Hrent     Mind^     in     Art        With  a  Chapter  on  Art  and 
\jrreai:    IVlinaS     in    ^ri.       ^^^53^5         By      William 

TiREBucK.    With  many  Portraits,  and  Frontispiece.     Crown 

8vo.,  cloth,  5s. 
C(?M/<7//j.—Gu3taveDore— Albert  Durer— Raphael— ■Rembrandt— Velazquez 
—Richard  Wilson— Sir  Edward  Landseer— Sir  David  Wilkie. 


^ietov^* 


T 


he   Making   of  The    Great    West, 

1512-1853.     By  Samuel  Adams  Drake.     One  hundred 
and    forty-five     Illustrations.      Large    crown    8vo.     9s. 
(After  discussing  in  detail  the  Original  Explorations  of 
the  Spaniards,  the  French  and  the  English,  he    traces  the 
development  of  America    as  a  nation   by  conquest,  annex- 
ation, and  by  exploration.) 

The  Makinp;   of  New  England,  15801643. 

D  D  '     By  Samuel 

Adams  Drake.      Illustrated.      Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  5s. 
"  It  is  clearly  and  pleasantly  written,  and  copiously  illustrated." 

Pj^I  Mall  Budget. 
"  It  is  very  compact,  clear  and  Te\inb\e."—Noncon/onntst. 

The  Making  of  the  Irish  Nation;    And 

the  First-Fruits  of  Federation.     By  J.  A.  Partridge,  Author 
of  "  Democracy  :  Its  Factors  and  Conditions."     Demy  Svo,, 
cloth,  6s. 
"The  '  Making  of  the  Irish  Nation'  is  not  only  a  very  useful  guidebook  for 
students,  but  it  is  an  interesting  volume  of  facts  and  inferences." 

Sydney  Morning  Herald. 

A     Short    History    of   the    Netherlands 

(Holland  and  Belgium).     By  Alexander  Young.     Seventy- 
seven  Illustrations.     Demy  Svo.,  cloth,  7s.  6d. 
"  It  will  be  found  a  very  valuable  manual  of  the  history  of  the  Netherlands  by  all 
young  men  who,  for  any  reason,  have  to  become  students  of  it." — Spectator. 

The    Three    Refoims    of    Parliament: 

A    History,    1 830-1 885,     By    William   Heaton.       Crown 
8vo.,  cloth,  5s. 
"  Mr.  Heaioii  gives  admirable  summaries  of  the  three  great  Reform  Bills.  .    . 
Such  books  as  these  are  powerful  educative  forces." — British  Quatterh  Review. 

"As  readable  as  a  novel,  and  as  instmctive  as  an  important  chapter  of  history 
can  well  be." — l.teds  .Mercury. 


IDistorp. 


The   Story    of   the    Nations. 

Crown    8vo.,    Illustrated,    and    furnished    with    Maps   and 

Indexes,  each  5s. 
L'interessante  serie  I'Hisloire  des  Nations  fomiera     .    .    .     un  cours  d'hisioire 
universelle  d'linc  tr^s  grandc  va\c\\T.—/ournal  det  Deddd. 
The  remarkable  series. — New  York  Critic. 
That  useful  series.— 7"A*  Time':. 
An  admirable  series. — Spectator. 
That  excellent  series. — Guardian. 

The  series  is  likely  to  be  found  indispensable  in  every  school  library. 
This  valuable  series. — Nonconformist.  [Pall  Afall  Gaxctlc. 

Adnurable  series  of  historical  monographs. — Echo. 
An  excellent  series. —  Times  0/ Morocco. 
This  admirable  f.et\cs.—F.-'angtlical  Review. 
The  excellent  series. — Literary  World. 
The  Story  of  the  Nations  series  is  excellent.— ZL/V^niry  Churchman. 

Rome         ^-^  Arthur  Gilman,  M.A.,  Author  of  "A   History 
of  the  American  People,"  &c.     Third  edition. 
"  The  author  succeeds  admirably    in   reproducing  the   '  Grandeur  that  was 
Rome."" — Sydney  Morning  Herald. 

The    Tews  ;       '"  Ancient,  Mediaeval,   and    Modern   Times. 
J  *       By  Prof.  J.  K.  Hosmer.     Second  edition. 

"  The  book  possesses  much  of  the  interest,  the  suggestiveness,  and  the  charm  of 
romance." — Saturday  Review. 

r^ermnnv  ^^  ^^^-  ^-  B.^rin-c-Gould,  Author  of  "Curious 
VJCiiiiaii^.       Myths  ofthc  Middle  Ages." &c.    Second  edition. 

"  Mr.  Baring-Gould  tells  his  stirring  talc  with  knowledge  and  perspicuity.  He 
is  a  thorough  master  of  his  subject." — Globe. 

"A  decided  success." — A  thence  urn. 

Ca.rthaP'e         ^^  ^roi.  Alfred  J.  Church,  Author  of "  Stories 
o    •        from  the  Classics,"  &c.     Second  edition. 
"Told  with  admirable  \uc\<\'\\.y  .—Obsener. 
"A  masterly  outline  with  vigorous  touches  in  detail  here  and  there.  "—Guardian. 

Alexander's  Empipe.     f  ,^^°^-  J- /•.  ,^f";"^' 

r  Author    of  "Social     Life    in 

Greece."     Second  edition. 
"An  admirable  epitome." — Melbourne  Argus. 
"A  wonderful  success." — Spectator. 

The  Moors  in  Spain.     \^  ^^''^'''r.cc'^'  ^°°"' 

r  Author    of    "Studies    in    a 

Moscjuc."     Second  edition. 
"Is  much  the  best  on  the  subject  that  we  have  in  English."— .J Mfwarwrn. 
"Well  worth  reading." — Times  rf  Morocco. 

"The best,  the  fullest,  the  most  accurate,  and  most  readable  hiitory  of  the  Moort 
in  ?pain  lor  gcneial  leaders."— iV.  James's  Gazttlt. 


IJ)istorp. 


K^Vnt         ^^  ^'^°^'  ^^°'    Rawlinson,  Author   of  "The   Five 
6j  r    *       Great  Monarchies  of  the  World."     Second  edition. 

"  The  story  is  told  of  the  land,  people  and  rulers,  with  vivid  colouring  and  con- 
Bunimate  literary  skill." — New  York  Critic. 

HlinP"arV  ■^^     ^^°^*     •''^'^miniUs     Vambery,     Author     of 

o      y  *         "  Travels  in  Central  Asia."     Second  edition. 

"The  volume  which  he  has  contributed  to  'The  Story  of  the  Nations'  will  be 
generally  considered  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  picturesque  of  that  useful 
i.  cries." — Times. 

"  This  eminently  satisfactory  book." — Si.  James's  Gazette. 

Thf^    Qdraf^pnc     ^""^"^    ^^^    Earliest   Times   to   the   Fall   of 
J.  lie    oaia«.,Cllb,    g^g^^j       By     Arthur     Oilman,    M.A., 

Author  of  "  Rome,"  &c. 

'A  comprehensive  and  spiritedly-written  volume.  .  .  .  Written  iii  an  enthusiastic 
.■itinuilating  style,  which  imparts  a  new  and  vivid  interest  to  the  story." — Scotsman. 

"Le  livre  de  M.  Oilman  est  destin6  k  ctre  lu  avidement  par  un  grand  nombre 
<ie  gens  pour  lesquels  I'^tude  des  nombreux  ouvrages  d€]k  parus  serait  impossible." 

Journal  des  Debats. 

Irel3.nd.       By  the  Hon.  Emily  Lawless,  Author  of"  Hurrish." 

{'Now  ready.) 

The    Goths.       By  Henry  Bradley.  {December.) 

Turkey.        By  Stanley  Lane  Poole,  {January.) 

Chaldea.      By  Zknaide  a.  Ragozin.  {In  preparatitn.) 

(Other  Volumes  will  follow.) 


"  THE  STORT  OF  THE  NATIONS:* 

••  I  think  the  books  you  have  sent  are  a  great  advance  in  the  right  direction." 

Rev.  EuwARD  Turing,  M.A.,  Uppingham. 

"  'Alexander's  Empire.'     It  is  one  of  an  excellent  series." 

R.  BoswoRTH  Smith,  //arrow. 

"Your  useful  series."— Rev,  W.  GuNioN  Rutherford,  M.A.,  Head  Master 
ov  Westminster. 

"Written  by  such  men  and  illustrated  so  liberally  they  give  promise  of  being 
both  useful  and  attractive."— Rev.  George  C.  Bell,  M.A.,  Head  Master  of 
Marlborough. 

"They  seera  tobe  excellent."— Rev.  J.  E.  Cowell  Weldon,  M.A.,  Harrow- 
School. 

"  I  can  heartily  commend  the  'Jews  'and'  Egyptians.'" — Rev.  C.  H-Splkgeon. 


(gioc^vaip^^' 


A 


nne  Gilchrist:   h^^  Life  and  writings.    Edited 

by  Herbert  HARLAKENDtw 
Gilchrist.  Prefatory  Notice  by  William  Michael 
RossETTi.  Second  edition.  Twelve  Illustrations.  Demy 
8vo.,  cloth,  i6s. 
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These  characteristics,  so  unlike  tin-  Carlyle  of  the  too  copious  memoirs,  so  unlike 
the  Mrs.  Carlyle,  the  femme  incomprhe,  so  unlike  the  Kossetti  of  myth,  are 
extremely  welcome." — Daily  Nrws,  Leader. 

"A  book  of  great  worth  and  interest."— .bVo/rwaw. 

Charles  Dickens  as  I  knew  Him:    ^heStory 

of  the 
Reading  Tours  in  Great  Britain  and  America   (1866-1870). 
By  GtORGE   Dolby.     New    and    cheaper  edition.     Crown 
8vo.,  3s.  6d. 
"  A  book  which  gives  us  many  pleasant  pictures  of  one  of  the  most  interesting 
figures  in  modern  literature." — Saturday  Review. 

"It  will  be  welcome  to  all  lovers  of  Uickens  for  Dickens'  own  sakc:'—Athenaum. 

Charles  Whitehead  ;    ^  ^^i^*'  Monograph     By 

H.  1  .  Mackenzie  Bell.   Cheap 
and  popular  edition.      Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  5s. 
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Contemporary  Keview. 

Ole  Bull  :     ^  Memoir.      By  Sara  C.  Bull.     With  Ole  Bull's 

"  Violin  Notes"  and  Dr.  A.  B.  Crosby's  "  AnatonT'* 

of  the  V^iolinist."      Portraits.      Second  edition.     Crown  8vq.'_. 

cloth,  7s.  6d. 

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Johannes  Brahms:   a  Biographical  sketch,    ^y  Dr. 

•/  naRMAN  UEiTERs.    1  ranslatcd,witn 

additions,  by  Rosa  Newmarch.  Edited,  with  a  Preface, 
by  J.  A.  Fuller  Maitland.  Portrait.  Small  crown  8vo., 
cioth,  6s. 


12  TBiograpt))?. 


The  Lives  of  Robert  and  Mary  MofFat. 

By  their  Son,  John  Smith  Moffat.     Portraits,  Illustrations, 

and    Maps.     Sixth    edition.     Crown    8vo.,    cloth,  7s.    6d. 

Presentation  edition,  full  gilt  elegant,  bevelled  boards,  gilt 

edges,  in  box,  los.  6d. 

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value  on  the  honoured  shelf  of  missionary  biography.     The  biographer  has  done 

his  work  with  reverent  care,  and  in  a  straightforward,  unaffected  style." 

Contemporary  Review. 

Txmn    Rnvdl    T  ive<l  •     Gleanings  from  Berlin,   and  from 

IWO   KOyal  L.lVeS,     ^he  Lives  of  their  imperial   High- 

ncsses    the  Crown    Prince  and  Princess  of  Germany.     By 

Dorothea    Roberts.     Illustrated  with    Eight  Photographs 

and  Six  Illustrations.     Second  edition.     Crown   8vo.,  cloth 

elegant,  7s.  6d. 

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The  Life  and  Times  of  W.  Lloyd  Garrison, 

1805-1840  :  The  Story  of  His  Life  told   by  His  Children. 

In  two  volumes,  with   upwards   of  Twenty   Portraits   and 

Illustrations.  Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  ^^i  los. 
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honourable  place  to  the  description  of  a  man  who  accomplished  a  great  work,  and 
whose  right  to  figure  among  such  men  as  Wilberforce,  Clarkson,  Brougham,  and 
others,  cannot  for  a  moment  be  disputed." — Times. 

Arminius    Vambe'ry ;    ^^^^tr^^T^ 

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'  •  It  must  be  pronounced  unique."— 5/.  Jumes  s  Gazette. 

"  Has  all  the  fascination  of  a  lively  romance."— Z>(7//i'  Telegraph. 

"  A  marvellous  and  graphic  narrative." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

T-If^nr\7    Trvincr  •     in  England  and  America,  1838-1884..  By 
jncm^    living.     Preoeric   Daly.     Vignette    Portrait  by 
Ad.  Lalauze.     Second  thousand.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth  extra, 
5s.  ■> 

"A  very  interesting  account  of  the  career  of  the  great  actor." 

British  Quarterly  Review. 
"A  succint  biography,  history,  and  commentary." — Daily  Chronicle. 


t^tofo^^  ^"^  (pjifoeoj?^^. 


E 


YnOQifinnc  "     ^V   ^^-  SAMUtL  Cox.     First  Seriei. 
A^UbiLlUUb.         Third  Thousand.  Demy  8vo.,  cloth, 

7s.  6d. 


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''  Expositions."     \y  '^^  %T  "^"J*""  n  ^^^T^  ^f  ?* 

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7$.  6d. 

"  Here  loo  we  have  the  clear  exegeiical  insight,  the  lucid  expository  style,  the 
chastened  but  effective  eloquence,  the  high  ethical  standpoint,  which  secured  for  the 
earlier  series  a  well-nigh  unanimous  award  of  commendation." — Academy. 

"  Expositions."     ?y  '^l  ^^!"^  ^"^'^°^-   ^^f^  ^"\« 

1  *  Second    edition.      Demv,    ovo.,   cloth, 

7s.  6d. 

"  When  we  say  that  the  volume  possesses  all   the  intellectual,    moral,  and 

spiritual  ch.iracteristics  which  have  won  for  its  author  so  distinguished  a  place 

among  the  religious  teachers  of  our  time    .     .     .     what  further  recommendation 

can  be  nQZ'H'sarj'i"— Nonconformist. 

The  Risen  Christ  •    '^^"^  ^'"^  ""^  ^^-''-    ^^  '^'^  '^'*' 

1  lie    IVlbCU    V^iiribL  .     J    BALDWIN  Brown,  M.A.,  Author 

of  "The  Homo  Life,"  &c.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  73.  6d. 

C^M/iw/^.— Immortality  Veiled— The  Piitnary  Lesson— Foreshadowings— 
Resurrection  the  Key  to  the  Life  of  Christ-  The  Witness  of  the  Disciples— 
The  Testimony  of  St.  I'aul— The  Universal  Acceptance— The  Resurrection  of 
Christ— The  Risen  Christ  the  King  of  Men—  Ihe  Founding  of  the  Kingdom— 
The  Administration— The  Ruling  Power- The  Free  Citizer.ihip— The  New. 
Humanity. 


14  Cbeologp  anti  Plitlosopbp. 

Christian  Facts  and  Forces,    ^^^i^^^llrrr 

"  The  Reality  of  Faith."     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  4s.  6d. 

Contents.— Ihc  Changed  World— The  Honesty  of  Jesus— Standing  in  the 
Truth— The  Positiveness  of  Jesus— The  Beginnings  of  Discipleship— Signs  of 
the  Times— The  Note  of  Universality— Zebedee's  Absence— The  Christian 
Revelation  of  Life — Reconciliation  with  Life — The  Glorification  of  Life — 
A  Real  Sense  of  Sin— A  Lenten  Sermon— Personal  Power  the  Great 
Requirement — Misunderstanding  Christ— Putting  the  Witness  Away— A  Study 
for  the  Doctrine  of  the  Atonement— The  Gospel  a  Gift  to  the  Senses — The 
Limits  of  Spiritual  Manifestation — The  Inter-dependence  of  All  Saints. 

(These  discourses  are  notable  for  the  absence  of  doctrinal  discussion,  and 
for  their  strict  adherence  to  a  clear,  simple,  earnest  exposition  of  the  spirit  of 
Christ's  teaching,  in  its  practical  application  to  every-day  life.) 

Faint    vet  Pursuinp-      ^^  ^^^  ^^^-  ^-  J-  ^a"^"^* 

rdint,   yCL    JrurbUmg.       Author  of  «  How  to  be  Happy 
though  Married."     Square  imp.  i6mo.,  cloth,  6s. 

Contents.— YaXni,  yet  Pursuing— Thorns  in  the  Flesh— The  Perfect  Work 
of  Patience— A  Refuge  for  the  Distressed— Mistakes  about  Happiness— 
A  Wise  Choice— The  Day  of  Salvation— Sisera  no  Match  for  the  Stars — 
The  Babylonian  Captivity— God's  Method  of  Punishment— Our  Father's 
Chastisement  —  Christian  Friendship  —  Thoughts  for  Advent  —  Christmas 
Thoughts— The  Divine  Arithmetic  of  Life— Excuses— Secret  Faults—"  Is  it 
not  a  Little  One?"— Forewarned,  Forearmed — No  Waste — Good  Friday  and 
Bad  Friday— The  Full,  Perfect,  and  Sufficient  Sacrifice— Volunteer  for  God— 
The  Lord  and  Giver  of  Life-  Worldliness— Bid  Christ  to  your  Wedding — 
Old  Testament  Heroes— Are  Christian  Principles  Practical  ?— Christian 
Socialism — Seeing  not  Necessarily  Believing. 

The  Meditations  and  Maxims  of  Koheleth, 

A   Practical    Exposition   of  the   Book    of  Ecclesiastcs.      By 
Rev.  T.  Campbell  Finlayson.     Crown  8vo.,  6s. 

"  A  thoughtful  and  practical  commentary  on  a  book  of  Holy  Scripture  which 
needs  much  spiritual  wisdom  for  its  exposition.  .  .  .  Sound  and  judicious 
handling. " — Rock. 

The  Pharaohs  of  the   Bondage  and  the 

Exodus.      Lectures   by  Charles  S.    Robinson,  D.D.,  LL.D. 
Second  edition.     Large  crown  8vo.,  cloth,  5s. 

' '  Both  lectures  are  conceived  in  a  very  earnest  spirit,  and  are  developed  with 
much  dignity  and  force.  We  have  the  greatest  satisfaction  in  commending  it  to 
the  attention  of  Biblical  students  and  Christian  ministers."— ^^/i-rary  World. 


CbeologjP  aiiD  pfjilosopbp. 


A  Short  Introduction   to   the   History  of 

Ancient  Israel.      By  the  Rev.  A,  W.  Oxford,  M.A.,  Vicar 
of   St.    Luke's,    Berwick    Street,    Soho,    Editor    of   "The 
Berwick  Hymnal,"  &cc.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d, 
"  We  can  testify  to  the  great  amount  of  labour  it  Teprescnts." —Li/erary  World. 

The  Reality  of  Relieion.    ?y  henrv j  Van  pvKE. 

/  o  Junr.,     D.D.,     of    the 

Brick  Church,  N.Y.     Second  edition.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth, 

4s.  6d. 

"  An  able  and  eloquent  review  of  the  considerations  on  which  the  writer  rests  his 

belief  in  Christianity,  and  an  impassioned  statement  of  the  strength  of  this  belief." 

Scotsman. 

A  Layman's  Study  of  the  English   Bible 

considered  in  its  Literary  and  Secular  Aspects.      By  Francis 
BowEN,  LL.D.      Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  4.S.  6d. 
"  Nfost  heirtily  do  we  recommend  this  little  volume  to  the  careful  study,  not 
only  of  those  whose  faith  is  not  yet  hxcd  and  settled,  but  of  those  whose  love  for  it 
and  r-liance  on  it  grows  with  their  growing  years." — Nonconformist. 

The     ParOUsia.         f^,    critical     inquiry    into    the     New 

1  estaracnt    Doctrine    of    Our    Lords 

Second  Coming.      By  the  Rev,  J.  S.  Russell,  M.A.     New 

and  cheaper  edition.      Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  7s.  6d. 

"  Critical,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.     Unlike  many  treatises  on  the  subject, 

this  is  a  sober  and  reverent  investigation,  and  .ibounds  in  a  careful  and  instructive 

exegesis  of  every  passage  bearinj,'  xpon  it." — Nonconformist. 

The   Bible  and  the  Ap;e:  or.  An  Elucidation  of 

&     ^     tlie     Principles    of    a 
Consistent  and  Verifiable  Interpretation  of  Scripture.     By 
CuTHBERT  CoLLiNGwooD,  M.A. , and  B.M.  Oxon.  Demy  8vo., 
cloth,  los.  6d. 
"  Wc  he.irtily  congratulate  the  church  on  so  valuable  an  addition  to  its  litera- 
ture."—  Tht  New  Church  Magazine. 

The  Ethic  of  Free  Thought:   ^  Selection  of 

O  Essays     and 

Lectures.  By  Karl  Pe.ap.son,  M.A.  Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  12s. 
Contents— Yv^y.Ti.  Thought  :— The  Ethic  of  Free  Thought— The  Prostitution 
of  Science — Matter  and  Soul — The  Ethic  of  Renunciation — The  Enthusiasm 
of  the  Market-place  and  of  the  Study — IIisiORY  : — Maimonide.s  and  Spinoza — 
Mcister  F.ckehart  the  Mystic — Note  on  Jacob  Wimfcling — The  Influence  of 
Martin  Luther  on  the  Social  and  Intellectual  Welfare  of  Germany — The 
Kingdom  of  God  in  Miinster. — Sociology  : — The  Moral  Basis  of  Socialism — 
."^ociAlism  in  Theory  and  Practice— The  Woman's  Question— Skcicli  ol  the 
Relations  of  Sex  in  Germany— Socialism  and  Sex. 


1 6  C[)£Ologp  anu  IP[)ilosopl)p* 

Descartes  and  His  School,    ^y  ^"^°  f  ^^"'/^- 

Translated  from  the 
Third  and  Revised  German  Edition  by  J.  P.  Gordy,  Ph.D. 
Edited  by  Noah  Porter,  D.D.,  LL.D.  Demy  8vo.,  cloth, 
1 6s. 

"A  valuable  addition  to  the  literature  of  Philosophy."— ^fr-o/jwaw. 
"  No  greater  service  could  be  done  to  English  and  American  students  than  to 
give  them  a  trustworthy  rendering  of  Kuno  Fischer's  brilliant  expositions."— A////rf. 

Socrates  *       ^  Translation  of  the  Apology,  Crito,  and  Parts  of 
the  Phnsdo  of  Plato.      l2mo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 
"  The  translation  is  clear  and  elegant."— il/tr/////^  Poif. 


A  Day  in  Athens  with  Socrates :  J^ 


Translations 
"rom    the 

Protagoras  and  the  Republic  of  Plato.      izmo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 
•'  We  can    commend  these  volumes  to  the  English  reader,  as  giving  him  what 
he  wants— the  Socratic  .   .  .  philosophy  at  first  hand,  with  a  sufficiency  of  explana- 
tory and  illustrative  comment."— Pa/i Maii  Gazette. 

Talks  with  Socrates  about  Life  :    7"nsi^"°"^ 

from     the 

Gorgias  and  the  Republic  of  Plato,      izmo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 

"A  real  service  is  rendered  to  the  general  reader  who  has  no  Greek,  and  to 

whom  the  two  ancient  philosophers  are  only  names,  by  the  publication  of  these 

three  inviting  little  volumes.  .  .  .  Every  young  man  who  is  forming  a  library  ought 

to  add  them  to  his  collection." — Christian  Leader. 


tvaM. 


G 


iiifpmilci   •      '^'^'^     ^'^'^^'     "^    ''^'^    Quetzal.         By 
UciLeiiiaict  .     vViLLiAM   T.   Brigham.       Twenty-six 

hill  -  piagc     and     Seventy  -  nine    smaller     Illustrations. 

Five  Maps.  Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  £i  is.  (Mr.  Brigham 
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from  which  the  Illustrations  have  been  made.) 

A  Summer's   Cruise   in   the    Waters    ot 

Greece,  Turkey  and  Russia.     By  .Alfred  Colbeck.     Frontis- 
piece.    Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  los.  6 J. 

The   Decline  of   British    Prestige  in  the 

East.     By  Selim  Faris,  Editor  of  the  Arabic  "El-Ja\vaib" 

of  Constantinople.  Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  5s. 
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.ind  Russia  for  I'resiigc  in  the  East— The  Haj,  or  Pilgrimage  to  Mecca  ;  its 
Political  and  Social  Object — The  Egyptian  Convention,  and  cause  of  its 
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Daily  Life  in  India.    ^>-^^;  ^':-  ^^'-f-  '^^"r^^-  ^''"^- 

/  tratcd.     Crown  svo.,  cloth,  5s. 

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.\  Chapter  about  the  Gods— Hindu  Temples-  Holy  Places  and  Pilgrims — 
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—Life  on  ihe  River- l,iie  in  Trnt—.\ll  about  Tigers— School  Work— Work 
amongst  the  Hindu  Girls  and  Women — Bengali  Christians  -  India's  Need. 

Modern  Hinduism  :   i^"  "H'^r'H^  '^  ^'^iS'T"'^ 

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Cratjcl. 


Central  Asian  Questions :    Essays  on  Afghanistan 

^^  China,     and     Central 

Asia.      By  Demetrius  C.   Boulger.      With    Portrait    and 

Three  Maps.     Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  i8s. 

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"A  very  valuable  contribution  to  our  literature  on  subjects  of  vast  and  increasing 

interest." — Colliim's  United  Service  Magazine. 

The   Balkan    Peninsula.     ^^  ^"'i,^  "f/'A" 

LEYE.       Translated     by 

Mrs.  Thorpe.     Edited  and  Revised  for  the  English    Public 

by  the  Author.     Map.     Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  i6s. 

"A  lucid  and  impartial  view  of  the  situation  in  the  East." — St.  James's  Gazette. 

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the  ?,uhiec\.."— Saturday  J^eviezc: 

Tuscan  Studies  and  Sketches.  ?>^  i:'^^'%^^TA' 

Author  of  "A 
Nook  in  the  Apennines,"  "  Messer  Agnolo's  Household,"  &c. 
Many  Full-page  and  smaller  Illustrations.  Sq.  Imp.  i6mo., 
cloth,  I  OS.  6d. 

Contents—Fart  I.  Studies  :— The  Giants  at  the  Gate— David,  Hercules, 
Neptune — A  Library  of  Codices — Old  Organs  and  their  Builders — Florentine 
Mosaics — The  Bride's  Room — A  Recovered  Fresco— A  Museum  of  Pictorial 
Tapestiy.  Part  IL  Sketches  : — A  Vintage  Party — The  Festival  of  the 
Dead— At  the  Baths— The  Giostra— The  IMushroom  Merchant  in  the 
Apennines — A  Mountain  Funeral — A  Florentine  Market — The  Castle  of 
Belcaro — Volterra  and  the  Borax  Springs — A  City  of  Frescoes — St.  Gemignano 

Letters  from  Italy.     fj^f.^M".  xror'  Z^l^, 

by  the  Author.     Portrait  of  the  Author.     Crown  8vo.,  6s. 

"A  most  delightful  volume." — Noncohjormist. 

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(lUi0ceffaneou0^ 


The  Theory  of  Law  and  Civil  Society. 
By  Augustus  Pulszky  (Dr.  Juris),  Professor  of  Law 
at  Budapest.  Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  i8s. 
Co/iU>i/s.— Science  and  its  Classification— Method— The  Science  of  the 
Philosopliy  of  Law  and  Civil  Society — Division  of  the  Philosophy  of  Law 
and  Civil  Society — Society  and  its  Organization — The  Mutual  Relations  of 
the  Societies— the  Societies  in  History— The  State  and  its  Constituent 
Elements— Origin  of  the  State — The  Aim,  their  Sphere  of  Action,  and  the 
Ideal  of  the  State— The  Notions  of  Law  and  Right- The  Fundamental 
Principle  of  Law  and  Right— The  Sources  and  Forms  of  Law. 

Labour,  Land  and  Law  :  ^.^T.h'or'.he^Wo^rnl 

Poor.      By  William  A.  Phillips.     Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  9s. 
"He   is   evidently  a    man  of  considerable  ability  and  a  student  of  social  and 
economical  problems.     .     .     .     There  is  a  great  deal  of  statistical  inlormalion  to 
be  found  in  *  Labour,  Land,  and  Law.'  "—S/.  James's  Gazette. 

United  States  Notes :  t^^f  uo::^'X"'^ 

Government  of   the    United    States.      By  John  J.  Knox. 

With  Photo-Lithographic  Specimens.  Demy  8vo.,  cloth,  12s. 
".•\  very  minute  historical  sketch  of  the  treasury  and  other  notes  issued  by  the 
Government.  .  .  .  The  book  should  bo  carefully  studied  by  those  who  would 
\mderstand  the  subject."— .Vtw  York  HenlJ. 

Representative  British  Orations.  dlctLslT.'. 

By  Chas.  K.  Adams.      i6mo.,  Roxburgh,  gilt  tops,  3  vols., 
in  cloth  box,  15s.     The  Volumes  may  also  be   had  without 
box,  13s.  6d. 
"  The  notes  are  extremely  useful,  and  contribute  largely  to  making  the  work  one 
of  \-alue  to  students  of  political  history." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"  They  are  well  chosen .  .  .  .  The  paper  and  type  are  </< /«»r.  *—^<-t>»i'«/j/. 


20  ^^ieJcellancous. 


Jottings  from     Tail.     Notes  and  Papcr^m)P^son  Matters. 

Jo  J  By  The  Rev.  J.  W.  HoRSLEY,  M.A. 

Oxon.,  late  (and  last)  Chaplain  of  H.M.  Prison,  ClcrkcnwcU. 

Second  Edition.     Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 

"The  jottings  are  full  of  vivacity  and  shrewd  common-sense,  and  their  author, 

amid  uncongenial  surroundings,  has  preserved  a  keen  sense  of  humour."  -  Fcho. 

"The  interest  he  arouses  is  a  dee. 1,  though  a  melancholy  one;  and  his  arguments 
have  always  a  practical  bearing  which  makes  them  worthy  of  full  consideration." 

Scotsman. 

Literary  Landmarks  of  London.   ^>'  Laurence 

J  H  U  T  T  O  N  . 

Second  edition.     Crown  8vo.,  7s.  6d. 
' '  He  has  worked  out  a  felicitous  idea,  with  industry,  skill  and  success. " — Standard. 
"He  has  made  him.self  an  invaluable  valet  de  place  to  the  lover  of  literary 
London.'' — Atlantic  Monthly. 

About  the  Theatre  :     ?"^y'  ^''\  ^'''^"''-  ^   ^> 

William    Archer.      Crown 
8vo.,  cloth,  bevelled  edges,  7s.  6d. 
"Theatrical   subjects,    from   the   Censorship  of  the  Stage  to  the  most    recent 
phenomena   of  first   nights,    have   thoroughly   able   and   informed   discussion   in 
Mr.  Archer's  handsome  book." — Contcwpoiary  Review. 

How    to    be     Happy    though     Married. 

Small  crown  8vo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d.     Bridal  Gift  edition,  white 

vellum  cloth,  extra  gilt,  bevelled  boards,  gilt  edges,  in  box, 

7s.  6d. 

V  We  strongly  recommend  this  book  as  one  of  the  best  of  wedding  presents.     It 

is  a  complete  handbook  to  an  earthly  Paradise,  and  its  author  may  be  regarded  as 

tlie  Murray  of  Matrimony  and  the  Baedeker  of  bliss." — /-'all  Mall  G.jzette. 

''  Manners  Makyth  Man."     %  ^'^'^  -t"''S'  °^ 

J  "  How  to  be   Happy 

thotigh    Married."'       Popul.\r   Edition,   small   crown    8vo., 
cloth,    3s.    6d.  ;    imp,    i6mo.,    cloth,    6s.  ;     Presentation 
Edition,  imp.  i6mo.,  cloth,  bevelled  edges,  in  box,  7s.  6d. 
"  Good-natured,  wholesome  and  stra  ghtforward."— 5rt/«7flV7>'  Revietc. 

English  as  She  is  Taught.    ?'^""!"'= .  ^^"j;^<^".  '^ 

O  o  p^xammation  (^)uestions 

in  our  Public  Schools.     Collected  by  Caroline  B.  Le  Row. 

With   a   Commentary  thereon   by   Mark  Twain.       Demy 

i6mo.,  cloth,  2s. 

Mark  Twain  says  :  "A  darling  literary  curiosity.    .    .    .    This  little  book  ought 

to  set  forty  millions  of  people  to  thinking." 


0000^0  for  €pift)rett. 


The  Brownies:  Their  Book,  ^"'l  =''")- 
Original  Pic- 
tures and   Poems   by  Palmer  Cox,  as  published   in    Sf. 
Nicbolds,  and  with   many   new  pictures.      Medium   4to., 
paper  boards  (varnished),  6s. 
Some  of  the  Contents. — In  the   Toy   Shop — The   Singing   School — Their 
Friendly  Turn — Canoeing — The  Brownies  an'i  the  Bees — The  Fourth  of  July 
—Fishing— At  Archery. 

New  Fairy  Tales  from   Brentano.     J^'fJ" 

by     Kate      Freiligrath      Kroeker,     and      Pictured      by 
F.  Carruthers  Gould.       Eight    Full-page  Coloured   Illus- 
trations.    Square  Svo.,  illustrated,  paper  boards,  cloth  back, 
5s.  ;  cloth,  gilt  edges,  6s, 
Contents. — The  Story  of  Gockel,   Ilinkel,  and   Gackeleia — The   Story  of 

Frisky  Wisky — The  Story  of  the  Myrtle  Maiden — The   Story  of  Brokerina — 

The  Story  of  Old  Father  Kiiinc  and  the  Miller. 

Fairy  Tales  from  Brentano.   J^^'^  in  English  by 

J  Kate      treiligrath 

Kroeker.     Illustrated  by  F.  Carruthers  Gould.     Popular 

edition.     Square  imp.  i6mo.,  3s.  6d. 

"  Tlie  exlnivagance  of  invention  displayed  in  his  tales  will  render  ihcin  welcome 

in  the  nursery.     The  translation— not  an  easy  task— has  l)een  ver)'  cleverly  accom 

plished." — The  Academy. 

"  .An  admirable  translator  in  Madame  Kroeker,  and  an  inimitable  illustrator  in 
Nft.  Carnuheis  Gould."— 7"/-*/*. 


'IBooks  for  CfjilDrcn. 


Tom's  Adventures  in  Search  of  Shadow- 

land  :  A  Fairy  Talc.  By  Herbert  S.  Sweetland.  Thirteen 
Full-page  Illustrations  by  W.  H.  Overend  and  Geo. 
HoMiERE.     Small  crown  8vo.,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 

In  the  Time  of  Roses ;   fi  7/^""  °/  T,Y°  ^^TT* 

Told  and  Illustrated  by 
Florence  and  Edith  Scannell,  Author  and  Artist  of 
"  Sylvia's  Daughters."  Thirty-two  Full-page  and  other 
Illustrations.      Square  imp.  i6mo.,  cloth,  5s. 

"  A  very  charming  story.^'—Scoisma/!. 

"A  delightful  story." — Punch. 

"A  very  delightful  zXovj."— Academy. 

Prince  Peerless :  t  ^"^2"^°^''  s^°X^°°i^'  „?y  ^^^^ 

Hon.  Margaret  Collier  (Madame 
Gallctti  di  Cadilhac),  Author  of  "Our  Home  by  the 
Adriatic."  Illustrated  by  the  Hon.  John  Collier.  Square 
imp.  i6mo.,  cloth,  5s. 

"Delightful  in  style  and  fancy." — Scotsman. 

"  A  volume  of  charming  stories."— Saturday  Review. 


When  I  was  a  Child  ;  ?;-  ^'^^  ^^^^"'^'   ^l  V/ 

'     ViLLARi,    Author     of    " 


.INDA 

On 

Tuscan  Hills,"  &c.      Illustrated.     Square    8vo.,    cloth,  gilt 

edges,  3s.  6d. 
"  It  is  fresh  and  bright  from  the  first  chapter  to  the  last." — Morning  Post. 
"  A  very  clever,  vivid,  and  realistic  story." — Truth. 
"  A  finer  girl's  book  could  not  be  had." — Scotsman. 

The    Prince    of    the     Hundred    Soups : 

A  Puppet  Show  in   Narrative.      Edited,  with  a   Preface   by 
Vernon  Lee.     Illustrated.     Cheaper  edition.     Square  8vo., 
cloth,  3s.  6d. 
"There  is  more  humour  in  the  volume  than  in  half-a-dozen  ordinary  panto- 
mimes."— Spectator. 

OttillP  *  ^^  Eighteenth  Century  Idyl.  Square  8vo.,  cloth, 
extra,  3s.  6d. 

"  A  graceful  little  sketch.  .  .  .  Drawn  witli  full  insight  into  the  period 
described. ' ' — Spectator. 

"Pleasantly  and  carefully  written.  .  .  .  The  author  lets  the  reader  have  a 
glimpse  of  Germany  in  the  '  Sturm  und  Drang'  period." — Athenceum. 

"  A  graceful  little  picture.     .     .     .     Charming  all  through."— /ffflf/w/y. 


T5oofes  for  CljilDrcn. 


The    Bird's    Nest     ^""^   other  Scrmons  for  children  of  all 
'   Ages.  By  The  Rev.  Samuel  Cox, D.D., 
Author  of  "  Expositions,"  &c.     Imp,  1 6mo.,  cloth,  68. 

"  These  beautiful  discourses  were  addressed  to  children  of  all  ages,  and  must 
have  found  an  echo  in  the  hearts  of  many  youthful  listeners."— .SV.  James's  Gauttt. 
"  Dr.  Samuel  Cox  has  opened  up  a  comparatively  new  vein." 

Nineteenth  Century. 

Arminius    Vambery  :     ^\  ^'\  ^'r,^.  ^i^"  w-'l* 

/  Written   by  Himself.     With 

Introductory  Chapter  dedicated   to  the    Boys   of  England. 
Portrait  and  Seventeen  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo.,  5s, 
"  We  welcome  it  as  one  of  the  best  books  of  travel  that  our  boys  could  have 
possibly  placed  in  their  hands." — Schoolmaster. 

Boys'  Own  Stories.  ?>;  ^^^°^^.  ^  hopk  Author  of 

J  '  btorics  or    Young   Adventurers, 

"  Stories   out    of  School   Time,"  &c.     Eight   Illustrations. 

Crown  8vo.,  cloth,  5s. 

"  This  is  a  really  admirable  selection  of  genuine  narrative  and  history,  treated 

with  discretion  and  skill  by  the  author.     Mr.    Hope  has  not  gathered  his  stores 

from  the  highway,  but  has  explored  far  afield  in  less-beaten  tracks,  as  may  be  seen  in 

his  '.Adventures  of  a  Ship-boy'  and  'A  Smith  among  Savages.'  " — Saturday  J^ruiew. 

The    Adventures    of    Robinson    Crusoe. 

Newly  Edited  after  the  Original  Editions.     Ninctccii  Illus- 
trations.    Large  crown  8vo.,  cloth  extra,  5s. 


The  chief  papers  of  interest  in  The 
Century  for  1 887-1 888  will  be  those 
dealing  with  Travel  and  Adventure, 
Mr.  Ken  NAN  will  describe  his  Adventures, 
Exile  Life,  and  the  People  he  met  with  in  a 
journey  of  fifteen  thousand  miles  through 
Russia  and  Siberia.  Mr.  Roosevelt  will 
treat  of  the  Wild  Industries  and  scarcely- 
Wilder  Sports  of  the  great  lonely  plains  of 
the  Far  West;  while  Mr.  De  Kay  will 
contribute  a  Series  of  studies  on  the 
Ethnology,  Landscape,  Literature,  and 
Arts  of  Ireland. 

Price  \s.  \d.  Monthly.     Postjrce,  19/.  a  year. 

:  NICHOLAS 

CONDUCTED    BY 

ARYAAPES- DODGE- 

For  1 887-1 888,  will  contain  a  large  number 
of  Tales  by  many  well-known  Authors, 
among  whom  are  Miss  Alcott,  Mrs. 
Frances  Hodgson  Burnett,  Frank 
R.  Stockton,  Joel  Chandler  Harris, 
Amelia  B.  Barr,  H.  H.  Bovesen,  Miss 
F.  C.  Baylor  and  Palmer  Cox. 

Price  \s.  Monthly.     Post  free,  14/.  n  -^ecir. 


Xon^on :  C.  ifiebci  itltiwin,  2i?,  ipatcinostct  Sciuavc. 


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